


H&H3 - Of Hope and Hatred

by IronicSnap



Series: H&H - A Story of Deep Friendships and Fun Crimes [5]
Category: Sly Cooper (Video Games), Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Character Development, Crimes & Criminals, Crossover, Gen, Humor, Pilots, Science Fiction, Star Fox characters are my own takes thereof and may not reflect canon, Thriller, i wrote this plot in 2019 and now it seems weird ;;, threequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 29
Words: 110,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25959781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronicSnap/pseuds/IronicSnap
Summary: The obligatory threequel. Carmelita finds herself leading the charge when a shadow from Sly’s past falls over Zootopia. Alongside an ace pilot with his own stakes in the fight, our heroes must rise higher than ever before. But if Judy’s gone, and Nick’s gone, who’s protecting the city…?
Relationships: Fox McCloud/Wolf O'Donnell, Judy Hopps & Nick Wilde, Sly Cooper/Carmelita Fox
Series: H&H - A Story of Deep Friendships and Fun Crimes [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1149146
Comments: 175
Kudos: 83





	1. Dominoes Falling

**Author's Note:**

> God, the world was a much different place when I began getting this story on paper, back in the far-off and innocent time of… November 2019. I’ve tried to be tactful about certain pre-existing plot points, but if anything rubs you the wrong way, apologies in advance. I’m just here to entertain! (Myself, mostly.)
> 
> With that necessary disclaimer out of the way…

  
(Art by slightly-gay-pogohammer!)

* * *

“ _The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts._ ”

\- Bertrand Russell

“ _Authority should derive from the consent of the governed, not from the threat of force._ ” 

\- Barbie

* * *

Morning in Zootopia.

Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps – two daring heroes who had survived several dangerous adventures and who had, by now, cemented their names into the history of this city forever – were on traffic duty. Again.

Judy let out a massive yawn, and stretched her tiny arms. “…heck.”

“You sleeping alright, Fluff?” Nick shot her a smirk from the passenger seat of their cruiser. His aviators shone brilliantly in the morning sun. “If you’ve been getting nightmares about a murderous robot ghost, you better get on that right away. I hear that’s a common problem these days.”

She smiled back at him. “Y’know,” she said quietly, “every time you joke about that, I feel a little more relieved. It’s a reminder that it happened, and you got through it.”

A light shrug. “I had some excellent help.”

“Thanks.” Judy savoured the moment before resuming their usual banter. “Well, to answer your question… I’ve been sleeping fine. I’m not tired, just a bit bored.”

“Jeez, Carrots! It’s been, what, two months? That weekend we spent on the run from our colleagues, fighting for our lives… I really hoped that’d tide you over for at _least_ a year.”

Another joke, another little smile from Judy. “You know me. I can never go too long without stimulation.”

“Evidently!”

It was bright, but chilly, especially here in Tundra Town. The mammals crowding the sidewalk on this street were all decked out in winter gear. Nick had added a thick black jacket to his uniform – official issue, emblazoned with the ZPD logo on the lapel. Judy owned one in her size, but had left it in the trunk for the moment.

“Well,” he continued, “let me know if you ever start feeling unhinged. I can pass on some hot tips.”

“It’s going well, huh?”

“I know I’ve only just started. But I tell ya, I’ve never felt more hinged in my life.”

Nick paused, his wry smirk becoming less guarded. Judy gave him time, and was rewarded.

“Thanks - again - for talking me into it. Going to therapy was… absolutely not on my radar, at all, ever. And it probably would’ve stayed that way, if you hadn’t convinced me.”

“I can’t take all the credit. I wasn’t the only one recommending it.”  
  
“You sure weren’t…”  
  
“But you’re welcome.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t tense. “It makes me so happy to see you happy. That’s all I want.”

“Well. I’m happy you’re happy I’m happy.” He patted her paw. “We’ve got a nice feedback loop going on here.”

“Yeah.”

After a moment, she pulled back. She scanned the area, but it was quiet.

“Besides,” she said innocently, “it’s no fun having a mopey sidekick. If you didn’t shape up, I was gonna replace you with Clawhauser.”

Nick gave her a withering look.

Without averting his gaze, he produced a bright green journal and a small pen.

He let the journal flap open and began writing. “Dear diary, Carrots was bullying me on the job again today…”

“Nick, don’t! Your therapist reads that, she won’t think it’s a joke!”

“Dear diary, Carrots was telling me how to live my life–”

Judy reached over, pawing at the journal, and Nick leaned it up away from her. In seconds, it was a full-blown tussle. “ _Niiiiiick!_ ”

“Dear diary Carrots is manhandling me like a piece of meat send help!!”

Mammals around them continued on their way. In a city this large, citizens focused on themselves. No-one noticed the two municipal heroes awkwardly wrestling over a mindfulness journal.

During a concerted effort to get close, Judy saw what he had actually written. In handwriting made scratchy and childish by their tussle, the line read _Judy’s support keeps me going through the day_.

Part of supporting Nick was not making a big deal out of such discoveries. So Judy pretended not to notice, and simply filed away the wave of warm feelings she felt over this. She could embarrass him later. And she would.

The cruiser’s radio crackled, and with practised efficiency Nick and Judy snapped to attention like magnets snapping back into place.

“Nick? Judy?”

Judy picked up the microphone and answered, utterly calm. “Yes, Ben?”

“Just confirmed that robbery at the Canal District was a false alarm. Stay on your regular assignment for now.”

“Copy that.” Judy tried to sound appropriately professional about remaining on traffic duty, masking her disappointment. Reminded of something else, she smirked. “Has Carmelita opened up about that _mysterious lead_ she’s chasing?”

“Nothing yet,” said Clawhauser, “but as soon as she does, you’ll be the first to know!”

“Thanks, Benji.”

“Officer Clawhauser.” Nick leaned closer to the microphone, and Judy angled it towards his mouth. “I have a very important message.”

“Y-yeah?”

Nick beamed. “Have a great day.”

“ _Awwwhh!!!!!_ ” Clawhauser’s squeak was rendered crackly by the radio but it was, nonetheless, adorable. “Nick, you ol’ charmer – same to you!”

“Thanks, Sprinkles. Talk later.”

“Bye!!”

Judy clicked the microphone back into place. She noticed Nick smirking at her. “What?”

“There, Carrots,” he said, gesturing to the radio, “is a mammal who takes satisfaction from his place in life. Can’t you be more like Ben Clawhauser?”

“We could all benefit from being more like Ben Clawhauser, I guess…”

Judy sat back in her seat. Nick had been half-joking, but she gave the question due thought.

“I mean… I was set on being a cop ever since I was a little kid, y’know?”

“I have great news,” he smiled. “Mission accomplished.”

“I am aware of that, Nick, yes,” said Judy flatly, wearing her police uniform, in the driver’s seat of her police vehicle, to her chucklesome police partner. “I got here. But…”

Nick’s smile didn’t waver, but his voice softened. “You’re not gonna stop, huh?”

“Never.” She paused for a moment, but there was no point delaying it. “Lately I’ve been considering… I dunno. Applying for a higher position with the ZPD.”

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been on the force less than three years.”

She smirked. “And how many times have I saved the city?”  
  
“Once.” Therapy could only soften Nick so much. He was still the counterbalance to Judy’s optimism and ambition, and took that role seriously. “You also saved a diamond and an idiot, in two separate high-profile events, but I think it would be a stretch to describe either as ‘saving the city’. Also that first time you unknowingly helped _break_ the city. So.”

“You know what I mean!”

“I do,” he admitted. “I really do. Whether the ZPD would agree is a different question, but… you definitely have a leg to stand on.”

He kept his eyes on her.  
  
“Still, though. Are you really unhappy?”

“‘Unhappy’ is a strong word,” she said. “Every day, I work hard, right alongside my best friend. That's all I really need.”

“I’m glad. But, what? You could be doing _more_ work, alongside _more_ best friends?”

She chuckled. “I’m not about to replace you, if that’s what you mean. I…” She coughed. “I was kidding, earlier, when I said that.”  
  
“Yeah. I pieced that together.”  
  
Judy sat back in her seat, eyes upward. “I think it’s just that I can always aim… higher…?”

Nick saw confusion pass through her face, her eyes, and instantly he was on alert. He followed her gaze. And, one by one, so did every mammal passing by. 

They stared.

* * *

Morning in Zootopia.

Carmelita hoped she was making the right decision.

She wasn’t prone to uncertainty. Her strongest asset – stronger than her deductive skills or her marksmanship or, indeed, her ability to angrily walk off injuries other officers might find fatal – was a steadfast belief in what she was doing. It had guided her through her darkest moments.

No matter what happened to Carmelita Montoya Fox, she always believed that justice would prevail. In a chaotic world, that much was simple. Or it had been.

Fangmeyer and Wolford had dropped her off, then continued to their own assignments. Technically speaking, they were still her official liaisons, via what the media had dubbed ‘the Phantasm incident’. Carmelita was glad of the technicality. They were hard-working but thoughtful, they always put the community first, and when she asked them to do something like leave her at a mall undergoing renovations, they didn’t question her.

If she needed them, they would turn around at a second’s notice. But she hoped she wouldn’t. She wanted to solve this quietly.

A mall without shoppers quickly becomes unsettling, just an empty husk of dead consumerism. There weren’t any construction workers here today either. Carmelita’s boots clacked loudly, echoing through this patch of silence in an otherwise bustling city. She didn’t slow. She walked calmly, confidently, to the multi-tiered car park. The open-air roof.

She was mildly surprised to see they were on time. As she reached the roof, a van rolled up the ramp across from her. It was under a hasty paint job – no, she noticed, not even paint, just black panels affixed to the exterior to cover the colours and logos without destroying them. But the shape was unmistakable.

Carmelita stood in front of the Van, arms folded, boots firm. For once, she waited for them to come to her.

The driver’s door opened, and Murray stepped out. He was unusually guarded, not that Carmelita could blame him. “Uh. Hi.”

“Hello, Murray.”

Glancing around – confirming they were alone, as she had promised – Murray helped Bentley out of the Van, setting his wheelchair on the tarmac. He nodded at Carmelita, and Carmelita nodded back.

Then they all lapsed into silence.

It was a dramatic silence, she supposed, rather than an awkward silence. But it was still a silence. She hadn’t arranged a secret meeting with two infamous criminals so they could waste time in silence.

Sly was good at breaking silences.

“Uh?” said Murray, finally. Mercifully. “Hi??”

“Yes. Hello.” Carmelita did not show weakness. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me.”

“What’s this about, exactly?” said Bentley. He seemed nervous. Dubious that Carmelita was alone.

“Let’s make this quick.” Carmelita held out a hand, palm open, but she already knew it would just be a symbolic gesture. “Return what you stole. Now.”

“W-we… don’t know what you’re talking about,” coughed Bentley.

“Yeah!” said Murray. “Who said we took Sly’s stuff?!” He paused. “…Awh, man.”

With her other hand, Carmelita pinched the bridge of her nose. “You are both,” she said, “ _terrible_ liars. I would have thought you’d be more seasoned by now.”

“Sly usually handles that stuff.” Murray met her gaze as he said it. But he wasn’t self-pitying. Carmelita caught something else in his expression. Anger…?

“I’ll give you another chance,” said Carmelita firmly. “If you give me Sly’s equipment, I won’t press the issue. The evidence will go back where it belongs, and we can all pretend it just went missing for a few hours.”

Silence.

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m being generous, here. Don’t test me.”

“If it means Sly’s staying in jail,” said Murray, folding his thick arms, “we don’t want your generosity.”

Carmelita sighed. Reflexively, she ran her hand through her hair. “I suppose I have to be more direct.”

She met Murray’s gaze. There was a steeliness in his eyes she didn’t recognize. But she wasn’t about to be outmatched.

“I want you to listen to me. You’re both good men. You have demonstrated that over and over. Which is why,” she said, “I am _trying_ to give you an out. If I wanted it, this mall would be crawling with cops.”

“We’ve escaped from worse,” noted Murray.

She sharpened her glare. “I’m serious. You aren’t going to accomplish anything by trying to break him out. The best thing you can do is let justice take its course.”

“You mean just sit here and abandon Sly?” Murray was firm. “Not happening.”

“Be realistic. At this point, you’re just clinging to an impossible idea.”

“Are you sure _you’re_ the best person to advise restraint?” said Bentley, raising an eyebrow.

Carmelita didn’t reply for a moment – long enough for Bentley to regret his tone – but then she cracked out a small smirk. “…I knew we had something in common. None of us give up, huh? Even when we should?”

“No,” agreed Murray. “Not now. Not ever.”

She sighed. It was more tired than angry. “Alright then, boys. If you’re that _certain_ , there’s no point dragging things out.”

Her hand went to her belt, but her radio saw more use than her shock pistol these days. She hoped she would only need one today. She really did.

“You better get back in that van,” she said. “Because I only have ten seconds of patience left in me, which I am _generously_ offering to the two of you. And when this all falls apart, and we’re back on opposite sides, I want you to remember I at least tried to keep you… safe?”

Bentley was gawking at the sky. If this was a trick, it wasn’t one Carmelita understood. Cautiously, she glanced upwards. She froze. Noticing them both, Murray followed suit.

They stared.

* * *

Morning in Zootopia.

Sly Cooper, legendary thief, was losing. Again.

But that was when he did his best work. His Gang, his brothers, produced plans beautiful in their intricacy. But the real measure of a thief was adaptation. Rolling with the punches, thinking on your feet. No plan ever survived first contact with the enemy. But Sly Cooper always had. And always would.

“Okay. I’ll move my horsie here.”

“For the _last_ time,” growled his opponent, “it is a _knight_. And that manoeuvre is illegal.”

From his seat between them, Lionheart gave Sly a wan smile. “Afraid he’s right, kid… for once. Try again.”

“This game is dumb,” declared Sly, not for the first time. “And I think we should all be a little more open to illegal manoeuvres, considering…!”

He splayed both arms, indicating the prison yard. It was a pleasant morning, if cold, and they had been granted grudging permission to bring one of the battered chess sets out into the courtyard. The winter sunlight shone merrily through the barbed wire.

Sly adjusted himself, sitting curled up on a crate to match the height of the two lions. The fact they all wore identical orange jumpsuits - Sly’s small mess of grey spikes tiny next to their huge manes - made the height difference even starker. “True innovators forge new paths. None of us got anywhere by following rules.”

Across the table, Scar broke into a rare smile. “Indeed so. The three of us certainly got somewhere by _breaking_ rules: prison.” He lapsed back into the tired glare he usually bore when dealing with Sly. “So spare me your puerile philosophising and get back to your puerile playing.”

“Don’t rush me, Creepy Uncle Scar. I’m thinking.”

Sly rested his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand, surveying the pieces. A plan was forming. All he needed was an opportunity.

“Say, kid,” said Lionheart, folding his powerful arms. “I think we’ve been over this, but if so, I wasn’t listening – why are you still here? Fella like you could probably slip away even without any fancy toys.”

“We _have_ been over this,” murmured Sly, eyes still on the board, “and you _weren’t_ listening.” He cracked a smirk. “And before you ask, no, it isn’t Scar’s illuminating company.”

“Bah,” said Scar.

“It’s actually,” continued Sly, “Penelope’s illuminating company.”

He turned around, craning his neck towards the tallest tower of the prison. Lionheart followed his gaze, and despite himself, Scar did too.

“That was part of the deal I struck. Sure, Penelope can comfortably fit into the palm of your paw, but she’s also the kind of… fella… who could bust out with or without her tech. I’m keeping an eye on her, and running interference on anything she might try.”

“Oh, right.” Lionheart sniffed. “Didn’t Tai Lung do that too? Before _he_ broke out?”

“You’d know better than me.” Sly stretched his arms, one hand near the board. “Ah, there’s my bestie.”

From a tiny window on the tower, a pink mouse stepped into view. Despite the distance, Sly was able to make out the sour expression on her face, the bitterness in her bespectacled eyes.

“It’s one thing to come for me.” The conviction in Sly’s voice, the unusual gravity, held the attention of both lions. “But she came for Nick, who is simultaneously my friend and a guy I barely know. People who play dirty get kicked out of the game.” His tone lightened. “So here we are!”

He waved up at the window, giving her his widest, toothiest grin. Penelope glared down for precisely one second before disappearing from view.

“We have our fun…” Sly returned his attention to the board. “Now, as I was saying, I’m moving my horsie here.”

“And as I _already_ told you-!” Scar looked down, then blinked. “Wait. What?”

“I win.” Sly moved his knight, daintily knocking over Scar’s king. “The king is dead! Long live the king!”

Scar’s claws dragged across the makeshift table. “You moved the pieces around!”

“What? No. You’re just terrible at chess.” Sly glanced to Lionheart, who was giving him an amused smirk. He replied with a wink.

“You just winked at Leodore _in_ _front of me!”_

“What? No. You’re just terrible at face.”

Scar was speechless. Momentarily. “Well,” he said. “For the first time in my life, I think I miss the tedium of the courtroom. Because I would pay good money to watch you embarrass yourself like this in front of a judge.”

“Nah.”

“What was that?”

“My trial’s gonna be real short, I think.” Sly shrugged. “And way less interesting than the media thinks it’s gonna be…”

“I meant to say earlier,” said Lionheart. “You got a good lawyer? I know the best. It’s not about proving you innocent, it’s about adding material for another chapter in your tell-all memoir.” He grinned. “Worked for me, at least.”

“Thanks for the offer, Leo, but I might even skip a lawyer. Not much point if I’m gonna be pleading Guilty anyway.”  
  
Sly’s voice was steady. Carefully nonchalant. 

“After all, everybody already knows that I kidnapped Nick and Judy and forced them to help me take down Penelope. If I fought those charges, that would drag them back under suspicion, wouldn’t it? I’ve bothered them enough already.”

Lionheart smiled and Scar glared and both easily saw through his words. He didn’t care. Most people were perfectly willing to buy that story, and soon they’d have a court verdict to back it up.

“Whatever,” said Scar. “It sounds to me that you just don’t have the attention span for it.”

“Oh, absolutely. That too. There would need to be a lot of finger-pointing and desk-slamming and people screaming at each other for me to find a trial interesting, and I’m worried that it just won’t deliver.”  
  
Finished with the game, Sly eased himself back, leaning on his elbows.

“At the end of the day, you need to be able to recognize when you’ve… lost…”

He trailed off. Voice quiet. Eyes wide. And very, very subtly, his hands began to tremble.

The two lions caught it immediately - the shock was also rippling through the other inmates in the yard. They followed Sly’s gaze upward. 

They stared.

* * *

Morning in Zootopia.

Chief Bogo was late.

Bogo was never late. It was a point of pride. But this was a last-minute meeting during a very busy time, and he had faced three fresh crises in the lobby alone. Finally, he had escaped ZPD headquarters and crossed the square to City Hall.

The largest elevator was always the slowest, every time he made this trip. At last, he arrived at the highest floor, towering over Savannah Central’s main plaza. Mayor’s office.

Stepping out into the corridor, it became obvious that it was just as chaotic here as in Precinct One. Mammals of all sizes bustled around him, though Bogo found himself in a bubble of empty space as he strode toward the office. A healthy mixture of respect and fear ensured some decent room.

He dropped his usual scowl for one person, though. Sitting on one of the chairs outside the office was a familiar young goat, a history textbook dutifully spread out on his lap.

Asriel looked up as Bogo knocked on the office door. “Oh! Hello, Mister Chief Bogo! …Sir!”

Bogo granted him a smile. “Mister Dreemurr. Sir.”

Nice kid.

Bogo heard a voice from inside, and with a nod, let himself in. 

Every mayor Bogo had known made their mark on this office, knowingly or not. Each had a different approach to the sheer volume of meetings and paperwork required of them. Lionheart, for instance, had played up the grandeur of the office, to the detriment of daily tasks. Mayor Dreemurr was the opposite. Humble and grounded. The sweeping view of the city offered by the back windows hadn’t gotten to her. Yet.

She adjusted her reading glasses as he entered. “Good morning, Chief.”

“Thank you for seeing me. I know you’re busy.”

“Not at all. Things have been quiet, really.”

Before the door swung closed, a paw pushed its way inside, followed by a cat. “Tori! Always a pleasure. I just wanted to confirm that–”

“We are meeting this afternoon, yes.” Toriel settled herself into her chair. “I have not forgotten, Miss Carolyn, and I will see you _then_.”

The subtle emphasis on the last word was rewarded with a hasty grin and an exit. The door didn’t stay shut long. “Miss Mayor?” said a bright young canine Bogo knew well. “I’ve finished the itinerary for next week’s conference with the delegates from Anima City. I just wanted to make sure you saw it.”

“I did, Isabelle. It is perfect, thank you.”

“Okay!” Isabelle smiled. She disappeared, but was soon replaced.

“Mom?” said Asriel. “What was the name of the lion guy from the Amestrian conflict again?”

“Heinkel, dear.”

“Thank you!”

“Oh, Asriel?” she called. “Not to interrupt your work, but perhaps you could guard the door for a few moments? I need to speak with Chief Bogo privately.”

Asriel nodded, eager to help, and shut the door.

Bogo took his seat. “Yes. Quiet as the grave.”

“Believe me, this is not so bad for a Monday morning.” Toriel watched him with that calm schoolteacher focus. “Now, what was it you wished to discuss?”

“It’s about the upcoming Cooper trial. We have a new security concern.”

“Ah. I see.” Mayor Dreemurr was one of the few mammals in the city who seemed unenthusiastic about the trial – the grand spectacle where one of the world’s most (in)famous thieves would answer for his crimes, including the charges of kidnapping local heroes Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps. Whatever her own reservations, she knew how her constituents felt. “What is it?”

“Cooper was apprehended alone. We know for a fact his associates were in the area, but they escaped capture at the time. Now, one of our finest…” He coughed. “Well, technically not one of _our_ finest, she’s been almost exclusively working with the ZPD lately but she remains an external-”

Toriel smiled. “Inspector Fox?”

“Inspector Fox,” confirmed Bogo, thankful to be back on track. “ _She_ has reason to believe his gang may be in the city. Maybe they never left in the first place. Naturally, we’re concerned they’re planning a jailbreak.”

“And Cooper is still among the general population of Menagerie Penitentiary?”

“He is, and behaving himself. So far. But last night, Cooper’s personal effects went missing. His cane, his equipment, the clothes he was arrested in… We had locked all that evidence down tightly, as you can imagine.”

Toriel arched an eyebrow. “They were stolen, yes? Why phrase it as though you misplaced them?”

Bogo huffed. “Technically, we can’t confirm it was theft. Not yet. The computer system claims it was all moved to a more obscure evidence locker. But I didn’t authorise any transfer, nor did Fox. We’ve hit some delays in opening that locker – which I doubt is a coincidence – but the second we open it and find it’s empty…”

She nodded. “This is worrisome. There are already doubts over how long Cooper will stay incarcerated. This will only inflame those debates.”

“For me, ma’am, it’s much worse than a debate. It’s an impossible problem we intend to solve. We are committed to keeping Cooper behind bars, no matter what his track record may be.” His voice lowered. “He endangered my officers. I won’t let that slide.”

“Of course,” said Toriel, distantly.

“I’m just here to keep you informed. If Cooper’s lackeys are making a move, we’re going to counter it. It’s my job to protect this city, and that’s what I…”

Toriel saw something very disconcerting - something she had never seen before. Bogo trailed off mid-sentence. He had seen something behind her, through the windows. Slowly, like a nightmare, she turned her chair around.

They stared.

They all stared. Across the city, mammals of all descriptions dumbly craned their necks upward. Nick and Judy sat frozen in their cruiser. Carmelita’s grip tightened on her pistol, but it was instinct, muscle memory. She was just as still as Bentley and Murray. Shock rippled through every district, though the worst affected sat in the prison courtyard, between two lions. A raccoon who suddenly seemed far smaller than he had a moment ago, his hazel eyes wide.

They all stared. Millions of eyes on the angular metal monster that floated above, perfectly still. And Clockwerk stared back.


	2. Riot in the Streets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 09:04

* * *

Zootopia, for once, stood still. An impossible moment, where the entire city ground to a halt. Transfixed by the metal owl looming above.

A moment all too short.

As suddenly as it appeared, it moved. With an echoing shriek that tore through the air, Clockwerk surged forward. Directly towards City Hall.

Bogo had never dealt with an immortal monster fuelled by hatred before. Nor did he need to. His instincts served him well, propelling him out of his chair before Toriel could even react. "Get down!"

"Wh-"

" **Get! Dow-!** "

The missiles arrived a moment later.

Openings along Clockwerk's huge wings spat a salvo of ballistic missiles. It swooped by, decimating the roof of City Hall.

The effect was instant. A metal monster in the sky was a nightmare. Too strange to process as a threat. But the main government building going up in an explosion was all too real.

Panic erupted through the streets.

Nick and Judy barely shared a glance before they sprang into action. The crush of people around them now threatened to become a stampede. Judy slammed their sirens, then the speakerphone. " _Remain calm!_ " echoed her voice. " _Please move underground until we can confirm your safety!_ "

Nick rolled down his window and, without touching the ground, hoisted himself up onto the cruiser's roof. He directed the stream of mammals towards the nearest subway tunnel, a splash of orange above the crowd.

Judy's eyes bounced between every citizen, ensuring the larger mammals were aware of the smaller ones. When a polar bear came close to stepping on an arctic fox, she glared. " _Do_ _ **not**_ _panic. There's ample time to get underground._ "

"C'mon, folks, let's see some hustle! You'll all be fine, just don't dawdle!" Nick dipped his voice so only Judy could hear him. "Hopps, did anybody _else_ see that UFO, or…?"

Judy reached for the radio - and was rewarded with eerie, garbled static. She turned it off and on again, cycled through the channels, even gave it a tentative, experimental punch. Nothing. "Radio's down!"

"Of course." Nick hissed a sigh, his eyes on the crowd. "Where's Wolford when you need him?"

Judy bit her lip, caught on the panic on every passing face. It was rare for her to want back-up. But this was dire, and one officer in particular always made her feel more confident.

But Carmelita's radio was dead too. On the car park roof, she, Bentley and Murray were trapped in shocked silence. Briefly.

" **Okay,** " said Murray, "I'm gonna say it because neither of you are gonna say it so I have to be the one who says it: _pretty sure that's Clockwerk._ "

"There's a few – um, minor differences," stuttered Bentley. "The wings aren't flapping, and he's suddenly much _faster_ , so, uh-"

"You're both right," said Carmelita. "That's not the thing we fought. But it's too similar to be a coincidence." She met their eyes. "We need to move."

"Then come on!"

Murray made for the Van, and she followed. Their argument was shelved. Old habit.

There was always something bigger.

Carmelita helped Bentley into the back and suddenly she was sitting in the passenger seat of the Cooper Gang's van. Even with the threat of Clockwerk hovering over her, the moment was too surreal to ignore. The seat was surprisingly comfortable.

"Alright!" Murray gunned the Van down the ramp with a speed she would have objected to if his steering hadn't been flawless. "I'll get to the prison pronto!"

She blinked at him. "The what?"

"The prison!" Murray's eyes didn't leave the road, but there was no missing their intensity. "If Clockwerk's back, Sly's in danger! We gotta protect him."

Carmelita bit her thumb, thoughtful. "I can't fault that reasoning, but…"

"But _**what?!**_ " They hit the street and didn't slow an inch. "What could be a **but** to that?!"

"Think of this logically, without emotion - because that was always Clockwerk's perspective." Carmelita's voice was steady. "Sly's location is a matter of public record. There would have been nothing we could have done if he swooped down on the prison first. But he went for City Hall. Why?"

"I can't fault _that_ reasoning," said Bentley from the back. "But from our perspective…"

"Sly's in trouble!" said Murray. "And we gotta help him!"

Carmelita didn't reply for a moment. She scanned the passing street signs - as well as she could when they flew by so quickly. "We're heading north, yes?"

"That's right," said Bentley. "The prison is just outside the city proper."

"Drop me off by the central plaza."

Murray's frantic anger tripped over itself. "Carmelita…?"

"I'm sorry. I want to help you. But I need to get to City Hall. Even if that _is_ Clockwerk, this feels… bigger than Sly." She managed a smile. "I know the two of you can protect him."

Murray met her gaze - a gesture she would have appreciated far more if he was not barrelling down a narrow urban street at breakneck speed. "Alright," he said. "If you got cop stuff you need doing, go do your cop stuff."

"Thank you, Murray. I mean it. I promise, I'll catch up with you."

She returned her gaze to the window, her icy exterior settling back in. Show no weakness. Betray no fear. But already she was doubting her decision. She hated the thought of abandoning Sly. But she had responsibilities beyond him.

The whole city was screaming.

Alarms were blaring all throughout Zootopia. Teachers directed their students under their desks. Doctors and nurses braced themselves for the potential bedlam of evacuating a hospital. Prisons simply opted for their usual lockdown procedure, ensuring inmates could at least be accounted for.

"Hmph." Scar stood, abandoning the chess set. "Whatever that thing is, I'm glad it's not my problem."

"Yeah." Lionheart's voice was distant, almost inaudible over the wail of the prison's lockdown alarm. "It went straight for City Hall…" He tried a smile, but it wasn't convincing. "Guess I picked the right time to get arrested, huh, kid?"

No response.

Lionheart tore his eyes away from the sky. "Kid?"

Sly had stood, unfurling to his full height. His fur bristled. His fists were clenched.

His eyes burned.

"I'm leaving."

"You, uh…" Lionheart sensed that there would be no more jokes. "Come again?"

"That thing," spat Sly, his eyes still skyward, "is what killed my parents."

"Oh." The chaos of the prison yard, of the city, seemed distant now.

Without another word, Sly jumped from the table and started striding for the wall. He moved with purpose, scanning for something.

Lionheart had the terrifying realization he had to be the adult in this situation. "Hey! Stop!"

"Don't bother." Sly's voice was sharper than Lionheart had ever heard it. He didn't slow. "I need a weapon, and an exit. Do me a favour and watch Penelope. Thanks."

" _Kid_." With difficulty, Lionheart caught up to Sly, blocking his path. Sly tried to push past him and Lionheart grabbed his shoulder. "Kid - Sly - please. Just give this a second's thought, would you? That thing blew the top of City Hall clean off! What are _you_ gonna do to it?"

"Let. _Go_."

Lionheart blinked, and very nearly let go. Sly had faced every day in prison with a wry humour, like everything was a joke that could be shrugged off or built on. But there was no humour in his eyes any more. His voice was a growl, low and feral.

"This is preposterous!"

They both looked up. Scar was scowling at them from beside the prison building.

"Forget him, Leodore. He's a child. And if he's so desperate to traipse off and get himself killed, that doesn't concern us!" He folded his arms. "So please, listen to me for _once_ and-"

The wall exploded.

In an instant, Scar disappeared in a maelstrom of masonry and dust. And Clockwerk replaced him. The metal owl had swooped directly onto the prison building, crumpling the reinforced concrete like cardboard. It loomed.

"Son of a-!" Lionheart recoiled - and the instant he let go of Sly, he was moving, sprinting straight for the owl.

" _ **Aaaaaaaggh!**_ "

Sly snatched up a wayward piece of metal piping as he ran, wielding it with both hands. With a wordless yell, he slammed it full-force into Clockwerk's leg.

He went unnoticed.

The owl was scanning its surroundings, taking in the prison as its neck twisted with unnatural, perfect rotation. Two huge yellow eyes swept over the building and panicking crowd of prisoners, even as Sly continued his assault.

"Oh my god-!" Lionheart ducked down. "Sly, get away! What the hell are you doing?!"

"I'm gonna **kill** this thing!"

"I really don't think you are!"

Clockwerk found its target - the prison's highest tower. With a sudden move, which sent even more of the building's reinforced concrete crumbling like a subpar cookie, it lunged upwards.

"Get back here!" Sly leapt up through the rubble, his graceful energy backed with rage. "I'm not done!"

Clockwerk stretched its wings and hovered by the tower's only window. It opened its sharp metal beak. And it slammed forward.

Sly leapt from the disintegrating prison wall, managing to hook his pipe into one of the bird's razor-sharp talons. Lionheart stayed low, watching as Sly climbed up its frame, apparently unfazed by the blue jets of flame spurting from its wingspan.

Clockwerk retrieved its beak from the tower. Even from the low angle, Lionheart could see the most secure cell of the facility was now empty. Whether Clockwerk was trying to rescue Penelope or assassinate her was unclear. But whatever was happening, there was no stopping it.

That was obvious to everyone except the screaming raccoon still hammering at its back.

Help was on the way, barrelling down a nearby highway. The Van shrieked around a corner, coming into view of the prison - and the metallic figure breaking it apart.

"I **knew** it! But does anyone listen to Murray?! 'Bigger than Sly', she says - I thought Carmelita was supposed to be smart!"

"Just keep driving!" urged Bentley. "We need to save him!"

"Oh, I'm gonna save him alright." Murray's eyes burned. "I'm gonna save him _so hard_. I'm gonna save him harder than he's ever been saved! When I save him this hard, he's gonna look at me and say, 'Murray-'"

He was cut off by an overhead roar - but one very different from the owl's haunting screeches. The roar of engines.

Three gleaming fighter jets, blue and white and aerodynamic, sped past. Barrelling toward Clockwerk.

"Gadzooks!" said Bentley. "Are those military planes? They got here so quickly!"

With a grunt, Murray sped up.

Lionheart heard a new noise in the maelstrom around him. When he saw fighter jets bearing down on the prison, he pressed himself even lower to the ground. He was not optimistic about what might happen next. "Last chance, Sly! I _really_ think you should get off!"

But Sly didn't hear him. He was so focused on Clockwerk, on trying to make even some dent in the unnatural metal underneath him, he barely processed the incoming roars of the jets.

The planes broke formation, circling around the prison's highest buildings with the elegance of dancers. One lined up a shot and hammered Clockwerk's face with its main guns.

Clockwerk merely shrieked.

Lionheart couldn't follow the motion. One second, the owl was still hovering in place. The next, it had turned completely around, blasting back towards Zootopia at eye-watering speed - and smashing through the prison's perimeter wall as it went. The three jets followed. And so, technically speaking, did Sly.

The sound slowly died off. After a moment, Lionheart stood, shaking his head.

"What an odd guy… I'm gonna miss him."

He cast his eye to the pile of rubble.

"You alright, Taka?"

From somewhere under the crushed concrete, Lionheart heard an almost inaudible whimper.

"Yeah, you're fine. Walk it off."

Clockwerk flew straight towards the Van, filling Bentley with terror and Murray with a daring anger - but passed overhead, ignoring it.

" **Hey!** " Murray turned the Van with impressive speed, but the owl and the jets tailing it were already leaving him behind. "Get back here, **you cyber-** _ **punk!**_ "

"We should really go to the prison, to check if Sly's okay!" Bentley aimed his Binocucom at Clockwerk, zooming in as close as he could. He frowned. "Wait - wait, no. Keep following him, Murray."

"What about Sly?"

"No need to check," sighed Bentley. "He's definitely not okay."

The air roared around him, loud and deadly as a demon. The ground was a distant death. And when Clockwerk entered Zootopia, passing over Tundra Town's climate wall, the temperature instantly plummeted.

But Sly Cooper would not slow down.

Inch by inch, he pulled himself along the speeding surface of the owl. Even his legendary skills had limits. He went slowly, biting down on the pipe, as he dragged himself toward the head. He ignored the speed, the height, the cold. Those weren't the reasons his hands shook so badly.

Clockwerk's back. Neck. Head. Sly dug his legs in, lifting the pipe with both hands.

"Just **die!** "

He brought it down.

His meagre weapon bounced off the glowing yellow - and Clockwerk looked up at him. For a moment, Sly saw it. Something he had never seen in those hateful eyes before, in all the time they had dominated his memories. His nightmares.

Under the yellow, he saw a small but bright speck of blue.

And then Clockwerk moved under him, and Sly's grip failed, and he was gone. He was falling, mostly horizontally, towards certain death, and he

collided directly with a fighter jet.

Sly hit the windscreen like an oversized gnat. He hadn't built up much relative speed, so the impact merely rattled his teeth, rather than reducing him to a fine mist. He was thankful for that, insofar as he had time to be thankful for anything. Through the glass, he caught sight of two green eyes, wide with surprise.

He forced a grin. "Sorry."

The pilot slowed, slightly, which was enough for the two other jets to roar past on either side. The motion made the finely-tuned craft wobble, which was okay for the pilot, but not for the raccoon beginning to slide off the windscreen.

"Yeah I'll just get out of your-!"

Sly felt himself disconnect from the plane, and reflexively he kicked out, pushing himself away before a stray fin whacked his head off. The jet screamed over him harmlessly. But then he was falling.

Tundra Town sprawled below him, whites and blues rising to crush him like an insect. Sly gritted his teeth, the air ruffling his fur.

 _You've survived worse,_ he thought. _Just not_ _much worse._

He still had the pipe, and he gripped it with both hands. Manoeuvering was hard when the rushing wind fought every motion. But he relaxed his body and fanned out his limbs and brought the pipe forward. Ready.

He saw a wall of sheer ice. Was this what happened to abandoned buildings here? No time for questions. He moved.

His pipe hit the wall, digging in - without stopping. It shrieked a protest, but held. Barely. Sly planted both feet on the ice, trying to slow himself. No effect. Speeding up?

He hissed every breath. _You've survived worse you've survived worse you've survived worse-_

But he wouldn't slow. The ground was rushing towards him and he was still much too fast. This momentum had to go somewhere.

Desperately, he kicked off the wall. Too much for the pipe, which caught in the ice and snapped uselessly in his hand. He wobbled dangerously, his balance upset.

_You've survived-_

His hand shot out, finding an electrical wire criss-crossing the street. Still too fast. Instantly it snapped, and he fought to hold on. But when it swung him downward, he finally had what he needed. Horizontal movement.

With a final breath, he curled up, dodging the ground before he broke both his legs. Just enough space. He was suddenly standing, being slid along this icy street at breakneck speed, and the wire twisted out of his hands but he was safe! He landed! He was alive and all he had to do was steer himself into one of the many gloriously soft snowbanks ahead.

Sly slammed at full speed into a restaurant's back-alley garbage. Fish bones everywhere.

He lay there for a second. The pain trickled in slowly, like an afterthought. But he felt nothing serious. He had fallen from the sky, and now he was here. Inside a pile of rotting fish.

"Ta-da~…" Sly choked. "J… jailbreak."

The Van was far behind by now. But it hadn't slowed. "I saw him!" said Bentley, still at his Binocucom. "He executed a landing strategy - I didn't think it was _possible_ , but if anyone could survive that fall, it's Sly."

"Just tell me where to go!"

Murray tried to focus on the road. But he could careen through city streets in his sleep. Despite himself, his eyes were drawn to Clockwerk, now over the climate wall leading into Sahara Square. One of the jets had sped ahead, effortlessly weaving around buildings. It hammered Clockwerk with its cannons, flitting around it in a tight, relentless circle.

"That's one heck of a pilot!" said Murray. "Maybe they'll turn this around?"

With another unearthly shriek, Clockwerk returned fire. A salvo of missiles came for the jet, and its pilot gracefully danced past almost all of them. The final one was a direct strike on the engine. Immediately, without ceremony, the plane exploded.

"Welp," said Murray.

The remaining jets roared, doubling their efforts. The battle veered to the west, over the Rainforest District, giving more of the city a view of the carnage. Death, looming overhead.

Carmelita felt the sour electricity in the air as she sprinted to Zootopia's central plaza. She tried to focus on the situation, the panic bubbling through the streets. But she couldn't shake the dubious looks Murray and Bentley had given her as they dropped her off.

Carmelita Fox was not used to self-doubt. She did not like how quickly it was piling up.

As she turned the final corner, she was at least able to shelve it. She could definitely contribute here. The plaza saw a lot of footfall, even on cold mornings like this. Despite the obvious danger, a huge civilian presence remained, congregating to gawk at the black smoke rising from City Hall. Officers had poured out of Precinct One, many clearly off-duty or on break. But they couldn't clear the area.

Carmelita strode for the makeshift perimeter around City Hall, angling for two lions she recognized. The shorter one saw her coming from the corner of his eye.

"Hey! No-one's allowed to-" He stopped short when he got a better look. "Oh. Inspector."

Johnson had very quickly learned he had no authority whatsoever over Carmelita. His partner, as ever, was focused. "I'm glad you're here."

"Report, Delgato. Why aren't these civilians clearing out?"

Higgins' voice cut through the air, backed by the department's screechiest megaphone. " _ **Alright!**_ **Everybody back off and get indoors,** _**now!**_ " The crowd barely stirred.

Delgato frowned. "I think they're concerned for the mayor."

"Feh," said Johnson. "They just want to see a building burn down."

Carmelita shot him a look. "Johnson, put your natural talents to use and keep these people at a distance."

"Yes, _ma'am._ "

"Delgato, how's the evacuation? _Will_ the building burn down?"

He shook his head. "You can see the damage was limited to the highest floor. Most of the personnel have already gotten out."

She glanced to the front doors, where Francine and Grizzoli were guiding a few final workers to safety. "But the mayor's office is on the top floor."

"Yes," he said grimly. "And… Bogo was meeting her."

Carmelita took a second. "Has anyone had contact with the Chief?"

"No-one's had contact with no-one," said Johnson. "Hell of a time for the radios to go down. Me and Del just saw all this out the window."

"Like I said, Inspector," said Delgato quietly, "I'm glad you're here."

Carmelita didn't want to dwell on the implications there. She didn't have to. "Wait. The radio network is down?"

"Yes. Phones and internet are very patchy, and our police radios are outright dead. It happened right as the… incident began."

"I **knew** it," said Carmelita. "But does anyone listen to me? 'It's obviously about Sly', he says…"

"Um," said Delgato, "what?"

"What I mean to say," she said smoothly, "is that outages have happened before during major incidents. Whatever this is, it's a co-ordinated attack."

"But why?" His eyes widened. "The mayor… you don't think this was… That the goal was to-?"

They heard Francine gasp. The officers, the crowd, all turned to the main door, a ripple of shock running through them.

Chief Bogo stomped out. One foot at a time.

He was bleeding. Badly. Masonry dust covered his uniform, which was ripped in places. His breathing was shallow and his teeth were gritted and every movement took effort.

But he had Asriel Dreemurr in the crook of one arm. The mayor, and the last of City Hall's missing workers, were in his shadow. Unharmed. Safe.

"Chief!" Carmelita moved in close. "You're wounded. We need to-"

" _No_."

He let Asriel down, but his hand was on Toriel's shoulder, and wouldn't budge.

"We aren't done."

Carmelita went to protest, and stopped herself. Arguing would waste time they didn't have. She knew what he needed to do.

Their eyes were drawn to the metal bird in the distance, harried by another jet. Another salvo of missiles. Another short fight. The jet lost a wing and went spiralling into the Canal District.

Time was short.

The whole city felt it. The clear blue sky was suddenly stark and terrifying. Every moment spent outside, without several layers of concrete overhead, was a risk. With the mayor finally in view, that fear rushed through the crowd. The same fear that had taken hold all over Zootopia.

Nick and Judy had no trouble convincing people to get indoors or underground. The problem was making sure they didn't trample each other in the process.

There were only a few stragglers left, but the partners were still run off their feet. Every citizen needed protection. It wasn't a matter of statistics. Every mammal had family and friends and a future, and even one life lost would be one too many.

Judy had never felt her duty to the city so viscerally.

They had left their cruiser beside the subway entrance, a makeshift billboard heralding safety. She stood on top, scanning the street, as Nick consoled a toddler several times his own size.

"And you don't know where your folks are?"

The elephant was wracked with sobs. "I - f-forget!"

"Hey, hey. It'll be alright." Nick's smile seemed effortlessly calm. "I know this is all very scary, but you're going to be fine. Y'know why?"

The child's response was a sniffle.

"Because that right there," he said, nodding to Judy, "is my partner. And whenever I'm afraid, and I have to face something big and scary…"

"Yuh…" A hulking hiccup. "You do it together?"

"What? No. I stand behind her and let her do it."

The child laughed, caught off guard, and Nick's smile widened. Mission accomplished.

His ear flicked at a sound, drawing his attention to the subway entrance. Someone was thundering up the steps. "I don't mean to presume, but is that by any chance your-?"

" _Mom!_ " The toddler stomped toward the older elephant. Nick gave her a nod, ensuring they both moved underground before turning back to his partner.

Judy gave him a small smile. "Someone's getting better with kids. You handled that well."

"Glad you think so. I was terrified." He tugged at his collar. "Now what? The radio's still down, but we really-"

He cut himself off when her ears perked. Nick followed her gaze skyward, catching the shrieks and roars and explosions for himself.

Clockwerk and the last jet, locked in battle overhead.

He hissed a breath. "Watch it, flyboy, there are people down here! Draw that thing outside the-"

" **C'mon!** " yelled Judy, her eyes burning. "That's it, whoever you are! Blow that thing out of the sky!"

" _Safely!_ Blow it up safely!"

The jet was relentless, its pilot pulling out every technique possible. But it wasn't enough. Nick was no expert, but Clockwerk seemed to be matching its movements. There was equal grace, equal skill, to how the owl flew.

It came down to technology. And the jet was outclassed.

A final salvo of missiles - aimed up at the sky and not down at the city, at least - ended it all. The fatal blow was quiet, one of the jet's wings barely grazed. But that was all it took.

The plane fell to earth. Into the city.

The partners watched as it screamed overhead, pulling itself between buildings to land in a nearby park. Judy was moving before it even hit the ground.

"Let's go!"

"Let's - what?" Nick blinked. "Hopps-"

"The pilot might be alive! C'mon!"

"But that _thing_ is still-!"

Nick turned. And stared.

The sky was empty. He listened for any sound, but was met with silence. As quickly as it appeared, Clockwerk had vanished. As though it had been some shared delusion.

Nick was very quiet as he trailed after his partner.

This jet had fared the best of the three, in that it was generally intact and only slightly on fire. It had slammed into the park at an angle, dragging through dirt to come to a stop half-turned, half-buried in upturned soil and snow. A jagged brown gash in the uniform white.

The glass of the angular cockpit was cracked in places. But Judy still couldn't see inside - until, with a pneumatic hiss, it began to open.

They were closing in now. Close enough to see details, the individual lights on the craft, every distinct dent and scorch mark.

And Nick froze.

"Oh my god." He was staring. "She wasn't kidding."

Judy was staring, too. "What?"

"Carmelita, she – When we first met, she said something about… I thought she was _kidding_ , but…"

Out of the crashed plane emerged a figure, illuminated by the fires of his craft. Colours contrasted sharply; his light grey jacket against his bright red scarf and his vivid orange fur, accented by a shock of white along his forehead. There was an unusual piece of green glass affixed to his right eye via a metal headset. But what really caught Judy's attention were his eyes themselves. Strikingly green.

The fox combat pilot.

"Hello!" he said. "I think I've broken both my legs."

He fell over.


	3. Rocketmammal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 09:09

* * *

"Sir? **Sir!** " Judy ran toward the crash. Nick was right behind her, as usual, despite considering this to be a very bad idea, as usual. "Please be careful!"

The fox had collapsed onto the upturned dirt. He tried to stand, but it was clearly futile.

"Easy there, hotshot." Nick planted a paw on his shoulder, keeping him down. "You said you broke both your legs?"

"It feels like it…"

"Then maybe," said Nick, "don't put weight on them?"

"Oh, good point!"

The pilot's voice was youngish, with a certain breezy energy. But Nick couldn't place his age beyond that. There wasn't much Nick could place about him. He seemed fantastical, with his bright pilot's outfit and vivid green eyes. But the situation was all too real.

"He needs medical attention," said Judy. "But how can we flag down an ambulance? Our radios don't work and I'll bet the whole city is in chaos."

"Carrots, last I checked, we had our own vehicle with a fun siren. I say we get him to our cruiser and drop him off ourselves."

"Great idea!" Judy's smile lasted about one second. "But how do we get him to the cruiser?"

"…Ah."

Judy glanced around, taking in the wreckage of the plane. "There! Give me a hand, Slick."

They recovered a piece of sheet metal large enough to seat a fox - and thin enough to drag. Gently, they set the pilot down on it.

"If there's anything I can do to help…!" he began to offer.

"That's super sweet of you, recent plane crash survivor," said Judy, "but just relax, okay?"

Nick likewise claimed a stretch of wire from the plane, ensuring it was long and sturdy and completely lacking any electrical charge. With a knot worthy of the best Ranger Scouts, he repurposed it to drag the metal sheet. Judy watched him work, eyes urgent.

"Let's go let's go!"

"Exemplary managerial rhetoric, Carrots. I feel so motivated. You'll make Sergeant within a-"

"Less backtalk more rescue! Drop and give me twenty! But not now! Later!"

"You guys seem nice," smiled the pilot.

Both partners took hold of the wire and pulled. The sheet moved, and the pilot didn't scream. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying this.

Their eyes on the nearest street, they moved.

"Good job," huffed Nick, "landing in - a park. I assume that was - intentional?"

"Yes!" he answered. "I couldn't prevent a crash, but I had enough control to avoid any buildings."

"Appreciate it. Except for - the dragging."

"Show some hustle, Slick!" Judy's voice came out much stronger. "This'll only take a second."

"I - hope so! I don't-"

"Wait." Her tone changed. "Nick, stop talking."

He caught the change in her voice, the twitch of her ear, and knew it was serious. She heard it first. But he picked it up too.

And then it exploded onto the ground in front of them.

It looked vaguely like the metal owl which had dominated Zootopia's skies, the approximate height of a hippo. It was thin and jagged, with sharp yellow eyes and sharper claws.

It shrieked.

"Y'know," sighed Nick, "this might as well happen."

With abrupt speed he tore his shock pistol from his holster. Unusually, Judy followed suit. She always preferred substituting her comically undersized model with a solid kick where possible. That didn't seem to be an option.

Their twin streams of electricity caught it in the face. But it just gave another shriek. It aligned itself, now ignoring their fire, as it flexed its claws and prepared to-

They barely followed what happened next. A bolt of shining green burst from behind them. It caught the drone between the eyes. And it fell.

They turned. The pilot had unholstered a pistol, small and light and in a sharp black design. He smiled.

"Like I said, I'm ready to help!"

Nick glanced from him to the fallen robot. "That, uh… that's a lot stronger than ours."

"Is that thing dead?" said Judy. "And… are there more of them?"

"The good news: yes!" said the fox. "The bad news: yes."

Nick sighed. "Let's pick up the pace."

They awkwardly realigned their path to move past the pile of dead metal before them - and the pilot hissed in pain.

"Sorry!" Judy cringed. "We can go slower-"

"I'm fine! Really!"

"Hope you don't take this the wrong way, flyboy," said Nick slowly, "but what if I held on to the space gun for a little while?"

"He's right!" Judy flashed a smile over her shoulder. "Nick's a great shot! And he'll be careful with it."

Nick was expecting refusal. At minimum, a protest. Instead, the other fox gave him a grin and just handed over the extremely deadly firearm. Nick hefted the pistol - it was so light it felt like a toy, which didn't help his nerves. "You alright if I only pull with one arm?"

Judy smirked. "Who are you talking to? If I had to, I could throw both of you over my shoulders!"

"That's my Carrots!"

They continued, and sure enough, their progress didn't slow. If anything, they went a little faster, as Judy threw all her diminutive strength into the action. Nick did what he could to help, but his eyes were skyward, ready for-

"There!"

Another drone swooped down from behind them, but Nick's hand was steady. He fired a single bolt that caught it in the chest and it crumpled in mid-air, clattering harmlessly to earth.

"Ohhhhh my god," said Nick, "this is so lightweight! It barely feels like I'm holding anything, much less firing a gun. And this thing can blow holes through metal!"

Judy laughed. "That's great!"

"No! It's awful! Can you imagine if these hit the streets?! The arms race even _one_ of these would-"

"Nick," said Judy, "can you relax for just a minute?! Enjoy this! You're firing a raygun at robots!"

"I am and I hate it!"

"You don't have to worry," came the chipper voice behind them. "The blaster is still experimental. It was incredibly expensive to produce even one. It's years off being mass-produced. Maybe it never will be!"

"Great," drawled Nick, eyes up and ears back. "And how come you have the display model? Was it a reward for being such a good boy?"

"Yes!"

In most circumstances, Nick would never accept such a tantalizingly brief answer. But he was glad the fox trailed into comfortable silence. He needed to focus.

Another robot beset them, which Nick located by the twitch of Judy's ear. He missed the first two shots, but his beginner's luck held, and with a third he felled it.

Finally, they traversed the frozen grass and hit a street. Judy dropped the metal, huffing a little.

"Hopps, I'll watch him. You run to the cruiser and bring it around."

"Great plan!" Judy took off in a sprint, as though she hadn't been winded mere seconds ago. Not for the first time, Nick felt a pang of envy at that seemingly limitless energy.

Not for the first time, he had bigger problems to focus on.

He kept the pistol at the ready, scanning for threats, as he stood protectively over… the pilot?

"Hey, flyboy?"

"Yes?"

"I suppose now's as good a time as any to ask your name. I'm Nick Wilde."

"Nice to meet you, Nick! I'm Fox McCloud."

"No you aren't," said Nick reflexively.

"I'm sorry?"

"I refuse to believe your name is 'Fox'."

"That's what everyone calls me."

"I'm a mold-breaker. A trend-setter. And if you don't give me something else to call you, I'll gladly - **agh!** "

Another robot swooped in from behind, almost reaching Nick with those deadly claws. But with another well-placed shot, Nick hit its centre and it fell.

'Fox' was still smiling. "You really are an excellent shot!"

"Yeah," said Nick, heart racing. "Thanks."

His eyes lit up at a familiar sight - Judy in the cruiser. She pulled up alongside them, and Nick tore open the back door.

"Carrots! I need backup!"

"Of course! I'm-"

"Tell this guy his name isn't 'Fox'!"

Instantly, her expression dropped. "Nick. No."

"This is vital," said Nick, dropping the gun to heft Fox by the hips. "We - you alright? Sorry for being handsy."

"Go ahead!"

"We're having a _disagreement,_ " said Nick, the strain of lifting an animal his own size entering his voice, "and as my partner I _need your support._ "

"Carmelita's name is 'Fox'," she noted.

"Surnames don't count!"

"Oh, you know her?" said Fox, who gracefully accepted being shoved into the backseat like luggage. "She's great!"

"She _is!_ " said Judy. "And she's here, in Zootopia. Hopefully you can meet her, Fox!"

"Carrots, don't succumb!"

Nick shut the back door and took the passenger seat. He kept scanning for threats, but they seemed safe. For now.

"Nearest hospital is St. Bernard's, just a few blocks north. Punch it!"

Judy punched it. They left the park behind - unaware that robotic eyes were still on them.

Nick turned in his seat. "You doing okay back there?"

"I'm fine!" Now out of danger, Fox was checking over himself with motions Nick recognized from his first-aid training.

He grimaced. "How are your legs? Are they, um… both broken?"

"I thought so!" said Fox. "But instead, one's just sprained."

"Oh!" said Judy. "That's great!"

"The other is broken."

"Oh," said Judy. "I thought… just from how cheerfully you said that, I assumed the other was, y'know… fine."

"It's not," smiled Fox. "I'm in a lot of pain right now."

"…Well, hang in there," said Nick, after a brief and extremely dubious pause. "Before long you'll be drowning in painkillers, and this'll all be someone else's problem."

"No."

Judy blinked in surprise, but had to keep her eyes on the road. Only Nick saw the change in Fox's face. The gravity in those innocent green eyes.

"I have a good idea of who's behind this," he said. "And if I'm right, then there's no way I can wait this out."

"Even though your legs don't work…?"

"I'll think of something," he said. "I need to!"

"Uh… huh." Nick raised an eyebrow. "Well, in the meantime - can we hear this theory of yours? Or is that classified?"

"It might be!" said Fox. "But you just saved my life. And I feel like I can trust you."

"We have that effect." Nick smirked, but it was warm. "We try not to abuse it."

"I'll tell you. Again, I can't confirm this yet. But I'm sure it's him."

Fox's face darkened.

"He's a terrorist who's been active for several decades. He's ruthless and evil, but a genius when it comes to aeronautics, mechanical engineering, military tactics, and political science."

"Uh," said Nick, "okay."

"He was born Andrew Ross. But he prefers to be known by a different name: _Andross_."

Nick blinked. "…Andross."

"That's correct."

"Andrew Ross, aka Andross."

"Yes."

"Andrew 'Andross' Ross. Oh, that's fun to say out loud."

"Are you done?" said Judy.

"And Andy 'Andross' Ross roasted us. We fought him… and lost. To Andross."

"This is serious," urged Fox. "I think Andross built that plane. I think he targeted Zootopia because it's the world's most visible and culturally important city. And…"

His eyes were steady. So was his voice. But the partners couldn't help sharing a worried glance at his next statement.

"I think this is only the beginning."

* * *

" _This is Katherine Cougric, reporting live from Zootopia's City Hall._

_As you can see behind me, the city is reeling from a sudden attack by a completely unidentified aircraft. Footage indicates the craft was extremely fast and apparently in the shape of a bird. But the forces behind this attack, and their goals, remain unclear._

_We can confirm there are no reported fatalities at City Hall as of yet, and this includes Mayor Toriel Dreemurr, who was escorted out of the building moments ago by the ZPD's Chief Bogo. An armoured car has been seen leaving the area, but ZPD officers remain on the scene - excuse me! Excuse me, Inspector!_ "

" _Oh,_ dios me dé paciencia…"

" _Katherine Cougric, ZNN. Inspector Fox, what can you tell us about the situation?"_

" _Let me be clear. My colleagues and I are handling this. The mayor is safe, as is everyone else who was in the building. But I need to stress to your viewers that this situation is ongoing. Please remain in your homes until we can-_ "

" _But do we know who sent that plane? Is this a terrorist act, or something else?_ "

" _We don't know at this time._ "

" _Where is the mayor now?_ "

" _With Chief Bogo, who has refused to leave her side until he is completely satisfied with her security. The ZPD is committed to protecting her._ "

" _I'm sure that brings a lot of comfort to Zootopians, but what happens now? What's stopping this monster from simply coming back?_ "

" _As I said, we're still determining the facts._ "

" _So the ZPD has no leads?_ "

" _Don't put words in my mouth. I know your viewers need answers, and they'll get them - when we have them. The priority now is to remain safe. Clockwerk is extremely dangerous, but with the right-"_

" _Excuse me, 'Clockwerk'? Is that what the ZPD has designated the attacker?_ "

"… _Uh._ "

" _Inspector Fox, are you actually familiar with-?_ "

" _No further questions. There's somewhere I need to be. Move."_

" _Inspector! Inspector, the citizens really need to know what-_ … _Dammit. She's gone. Please bear with us for a moment as we… Anna? Anna, what do you mean the feed is_

* * *

Sly knew he should have died.

It was a cold comfort. Yes, he had just pulled off a frankly impossible show of acrobatics. Falling from a speeding fighter jet and walking away.

But as he trudged through Tundra Town - his limbs aching, the bitter wind tearing through his prison jumpsuit, his arms and tail hugged tightly against himself - he couldn't savour the victory. He couldn't savour anything.

Clockwerk.

How many years had it been? Since the night he saw both his parents murdered? Since his narrow victory over Clockwerk in his volcanic lair? Since two dangerous people, both with more ambitions than morality, had almost succeeded in bringing him back - and Bentley had been the one to pay the price?

How long had he enjoyed this false sense of security?

He felt lost. Empty. There was nothing of his usual grace, his confidence or panache or humour, as he dragged himself forward. A passing traffic cop could have arrested him with ease. And they might have, when he wandered numbly right onto the street.

Headlights.

At first he just shielded his eyes, squinting dully at the black vehicle. But when the lights flicked off, the shape of the van became obvious. And instantly, Sly's heart soared.

The driver's door opened. The ice crunched under heavy feet.

"Uh," said Murray, "h-"

Before he could even get out the second syllable, Sly was hugging him. He crossed the distance like a shot and clung to Murray, arms tight around him.

"Heh." Murray returned the gesture. "Hello to you too."

"It's so, _so_ good to see you!" He looked up, eyes shining. "And Bentley-?"

"In the back."

Sly sped around him and tore open the back door. Murray made out a brief cry of surprise as he reclaimed the driver's seat.

"Uh-! Hi, Sly…"

"I've missed you both so much!" Sly disentangled himself from Bentley's shoulders. Slowly. "And I have so many questions! How have you been? Did you stay in the city? What's with the black stuff on the Van? The paint job is just underneath, right? And have you guys been-?"

"Take a breath, Sly." Murray pulled the Van away, driving at a calmer pace. "One thing at a time, alright?"

"First thing's first," said Bentley. "If you'd like to get more comfortable…"

Sly remembered hearing that his belongings had been locked down with the ZPD's tightest security. But he remembered how effective his brothers were, too. So there was no surprise in his eyes when he unzipped the bag Bentley handed him. Just joy.

His cane! His hat! His mask. To others, it seemed extraneous, but Sly felt naked without it. Fixing the cool black cloth against his eyes was the welcome sensation of coming home.

The rest of the outfit came together quickly. "Oh, is this a new shirt?" he said, feeling a difference in the blue fabric as he slid it on.

"Yeah," said Murray, "'cause the shirt in the evidence locker was the one you got stabbed in."

"Oh," said Sly. "Right."

"I'm glad you like the replacement," said Bentley quickly. "It's a solid, lightweight material. It won't exactly stop bullets… or, um… knives… but you might notice a slight improvement in durability compared to your usual wardrobe."

"Noted." Sly looked over his chest. "I just like the new pattern. Feels modern."

He gave them both a smile. It was warm and grateful, but there was a certain distance to it too.

"I… Guys. I'm sorry."

Bentley raised a hand. "You don't have to-"

"I really do, I think. And I've been thinking about it a lot, sitting around in prison." Sly's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I made a big decision. Both of you told me not to make that decision. And I can't apologise enough for ignoring you."

"Well, y'know," said Murray, "here we are."

"Murray's right," said Bentley. "We're all here. The three of us are back together, and it's clear where our priorities should lie."

Murray went to say something, but stopped himself, letting Bentley continue.

"We've got a lot of work ahead of us - our plans to spring you from jail are suddenly _redundant_ , but this is no time to relax. We can discuss the emotional nuances of the situation when we have more time."

"I guess you're right." Sly curled up, resting his arms on his knees. "We've got a lot to talk about, but considering _how_ I got out of jail…"

"Precisely. This is a dire situation, and we don't even know what's going on. Right now, we need to focus on finding and taking down Clockwerk. Once we-"

"That isn't Clockwerk."

The calm certainty in Sly's voice made Bentley blink. "I - what?"

"Oh, that thing may fly like Clockwerk, and terrorise innocent people like Clockwerk, but it's not him. I admit it's been a few years, but I'm pretty sure that Clockwerk didn't have an entire dude inside him."

"So it's a plane, huh?" said Murray.

"Yeah. I got close enough to see the pilot. It wasn't a proper look - for one thing, it seemed like one of his eyes was glowing - but it was definitely just a machine under someone's control."

"Oh." Bentley adjusted his glasses. "I suppose that works to our favour. At least we don't need to contend with Clockwerk himself."

"It doesn't change much."

Sly's voice was steady. Very steady. Perfectly, unwaveringly steady.

"It might not be him. But somebody's trying to cast his shadow. Again. Somebody who apparently doesn't realize what happens when you're stupid enough to try that. Somebody who needs to be shown."

He wasn't looking at them any more. His eyes, unusually distant, were on the horizon. Voice perfectly steady.

"I really was gonna wait out the prison thing for a while, y'know? Just see what happened. Well, I've seen it. And I'm done waiting. I know I left you guys behind, and believe me, I'm gonna do everything I can to make that up to you. But right now, I need you both behind me. Because my only goal right now is following that plane, finding whoever built it, and making sure they never do something like this again. _Ever._ "

Silence hung amid the falling snow.

"So I guess prison didn't rehabilitate you," said Murray.


	4. Intro to Political Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 09:31

* * *

Penelope was having an unusually rough morning.

Most mornings are rough in maximum security solitary confinement. For months now, she had woken up in the most barren room in the world's loudest, most colourful city. No decorations. No furniture beyond her tiny, uncomfortable bed. Certainly nothing as dangerous as an internet connection. Her only amenity was a triply reinforced window directly over a sheer seven-storey drop. And too often, when she looked out that window, Sly Cooper grinned and waved up at her.

What had she done to deserve this?

Ever since that fateful, innocent decision to dodge the legal age restrictions on a tournament by donning a disguise, Penelope had known that rules were for other people. She was above them, too smart for them. If she was quick and intelligent and, yes, a little ruthless, she could do what she liked.

Her time had apparently run out on that. After pushing her luck one too many times, she had been captured by people who appreciated just how quick and intelligent and ruthless she could be. They had given her a new bedroom to match.

At first, she had weathered it with a kind of resolute spite. They couldn't hold her forever. There would eventually come a moment, a golden opportunity, and then this embarrassment would be behind her. And until then, if there was no-one bothering her, not a single soul to talk to in her fairytale dungeon… good. Nobody could match her intellect anyway. Sitting alone in a room, away from the idiots and the sentimentalists, was basically a vacation.

She had begun the process of potentially, pending further introspection, possibly rolling back that attitude as part of a wider holistic undertaking that put more emphasis on self-reflection when Clockwerk swooped down and ate her.

It had all happened so fast. All her musings about escaping this cell, based as they were on careful planning and limited resources, had shattered with the wall.

She had no weapons. No equipment, no armour, not even the dignity of a solid prison shiv. So she had no way to repel the metal beast as it lunged for her.

Penelope's world went dark.

She knew she wasn't dead. Not unless the afterlife involved the rumbling of aeronautical engines, which she supposed was possible. But her trained ears soon picked up a much worse sound. A distinct pattern drilling against the metal. Air-to-air machine gun fire.

Penelope had wondered more than once if she was going to die by being shot out of the sky. But she had always pictured herself as the one flying the plane. This was just embarrassing.

With no other recourse, she had curled up in the darkness. In minutes, the sounds of battle had stopped. Then there was something she didn't understand, some kind of unnatural _lurch_ -

and after that, the plane landed.

She huffed and bit her lip and prepared herself for whatever was supposed to come next. She knew about Clockwerk, but the most relevant data point she had was that the Cooper Gang had already killed him twice, so in a very real way she knew nothing at all. This was an abduction rather than an assassination - it would have been far easier to kill her. Beyond that, she didn't know what to expect.

The beak opened. She saw a wall, and on the wall, a screen.

Penelope took a second to glance around, but couldn't discern much of the hangar. Clockwerk's engines were winding down with impressive efficiency. In seconds, it was quiet enough for a normal conversation.

The screen turned on. Penelope got the first look at her 'host'.

He was a snow monkey – the red face and white fur were a combination specific to the species. Even though his fur was naturally white, he seemed elderly, with a face weathered by wrinkles and dark spots. What really caught Penelope's attention was his attire. A dark suit and tie, under a lab coat, under a smattering of dubious medals.

He gave her a winning smile.

"Miss Earhart!" His voice rang out. "Let me clarify at once – is it 'Miss'? I could find no evidence of a formal doctorate in your background, but with your obvious accomplishments I don't doubt you might have one up your sleeve…"

"Uh." Penelope was reminded of certain men she was sometimes forced to interact with online for business reasons. She was also reminded, very vividly, of why she kept such interactions exclusively digital. "No. No doctorate."

"A shame. I'd be happy to furnish you with any title you desire when the time comes, but let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Penelope's only reply was to narrow her eyes slightly. She had said four words already. She was waiting for a sufficient reason to offer any more.

"Permit me to introduce myself formally." The monkey gave a little bow. "I am known in most circles as Andross. Like many, I have ambitions to make the world a better place. Unlike all others, my efforts will succeed."

"Oh," said Penelope. Five words. Kinda pushing it.

"Although I'm sure you can appreciate that this is no trivial matter. While I have done an admirable job by myself – and I should hope so, since that is the crux of my political design – no mammal, as they say, is an island. There comes a point where the truly smart thing to do is to turn to someone more knowledgeable than oneself." He smiled. "And here you are!"

Penelope folded her tiny arms. "You broke me out." Not a question.

"I did. Or rather, my pilot did, at my behest. Apologies for the abruptness of it all, but it was quite impossible to contact you beforehand."

"I had extended contact with a maximum security prisoner in the same facility, for several months, undetected." It was the most words than Penelope had spoken thus far, but it needed saying.

That finally seemed to dent his sunny attitude – all too briefly, she noted with disappointment. "Well. That just proves my point, doesn't it? You're a specialist. Precisely the person I need."

Penelope adjusted her glasses and weighed her options. Tragically, she saw no immediate escape from this conversation. This man had something to say, and had expended a lot of effort to inflict it on her. Hearing him out was the path of least resistance.

She didn't have to make it pleasant, though.

"Okay, bud," she said. "I have a lot of other stuff I could be doing right now. Whatever this is, get through it quick."

His mouth twitched with amusement. "I am glad to have your attention."

She watched Andross' stance shift slightly as he settled into a monologue he had obviously been looking forward to.

"What you need to know about me, Miss Earhart, is that I am quite determined in my goals. I intend to reshape this world into a utopia, and that end justifies any means."

Penelope had gone back to not talking. She saw no point when he was clearly more interested in his own voice.

"I have been branded a criminal by society, despite my noble aims. And yet it is only recently that I asked myself: 'What other flashes of genius have been lost or forgotten because of that warped sense of morality? What bold discoveries lie in wait for a new master, which I can apply to my own ends?'"

Penelope suppressed a yawn. Barely.

"I was fortunate enough to have knowledge of Clockwerk through an old friend. Now deceased as well, sadly. But through him, I discovered something monumental. The remains of Clockwerk's final abode. A graveyard of dangerous ideas." The monkey's eyes gleamed. "Oh, what a treasure trove for the taking…"

"The Krakarov volcano," said Penelope. "Still standing, huh? I'd've figured the place would've been picked clean by now."

"The years were not kind," he agreed. "I was not the first to explore those fiery depths in search of forbidden knowledge, either to lay claim to it, or erase it from history."

"Do you have to express every single thought in the most overblown way?"

"But," he continued, undaunted, "it appears I was the only one possessing a certain… wit. Clockwerk, for all his murderous intent-"

"Fella was nothing _but_ murderous intent."

"-was a genius. And like all geniuses, his greatest works were jealously guarded. Hidden behind locks and ciphers no mere academic, no mere _thief_ , could ever surpass. No, it required a particular intellectual touch. An equally sharp mind. One I am pleased to report that I possess."

"I wish I was back in prison," lamented Penelope. "Solitary confinement was much less boring than listening to this story."

"The point being," said Andross, his tone souring a little, "I returned from that volcano with an armful of undiscovered treasures. Such as, for instance, the Global Nullifier, a device of Clockwerk's design capable of crippling all communications technology on the planet. Phones, radios, the internet… truly remarkable what his universal design accounted for, especially considering it's over a decade old!"

"Oh," said Penelope. "Cool."

He waited for more of a reaction.

She didn't supply one. Internally, she was fascinated by the notion of a device that powerful. The power it offered over the modern world was immeasurable, and she was hugely eager to examine the specifications.

But if he was so set on communicating his business proposal via kidnapping and florid, pre-prepared speeches, she was set on ruining his moment. This was clearly a major one.

So she didn't react.

Finally, he coughed. "But that is merely the beginning. You witnessed first-hand the effectiveness of the jet in which you currently stand. Clockwerk's work on hyper-durable alloys is unparalleled. Metal impervious to conventional weapons, while still lightweight enough for sustained flight. Marvellous, no?"

"So this thing," she said, kicking at the lip of the owl's beak with the tiniest metallic _ding_ , "isn't Clockwerk? It's a plane shaped like Clockwerk?"

"Correct."

"Then… _why?_ Building a weapon in the shape of a dead criminal is… I've spent too long online to say it's _the_ weirdest thing I've ever seen, strictly speaking. But it is incredibly, morbidly weird."

Andross steepled his fingers. "I agree, it is a tad macabre. I'm thankful Clockwerk was such a shadowy figure, known only to a select few in law enforcement and the criminal underworld. Otherwise, I would be much more reticent to attach my public image to his."

"Uh huh," said Penelope. "That's the only problem here…"

"But it was the most efficient use of resources. This plane, too, draws from Clockwerk's notes - specifically those pertaining to himself. One of Clockwerk's defining traits was his perfectionism… something I can relate to, aha. And no project was more worthy of his efforts than his own form."

"Because he was history's biggest narcissist," said Penelope, "a title I assume you're now gunning for."

"I admit we may have some common ground there as well… In short, Clockwerk's engineering was exquisite. Every facet backed with an impossible depth of detail. I saw it as a tragedy to let all that work go to waste. Hence my ' _morbidly weird'_ decision to allow this vehicle, and the drones I have mass-produced as foot soldiers, to retain his image."

His grin had only grown. Now his smug poise was tinged with a certain mania.

"But the drones, the jet, the Nullifier… child's play. We have yet to discuss the _true_ prize - the reason I sought your assistance."

"There's something _better_ than controlling all the world's communication technology?" Penelope regretted it as soon as she said it. It just slipped out. But it was exactly the reaction he was hoping for.

"Yes! My dear girl, there absolutely is! And I _found_ it. I found something which I believe will let me tap into Clockwerk's crowning achievement… and once I do that, any other victories I desire become a mere matter of time."

Penelope glared. She had an educated guess where this was going. She didn't like it.

"All of Clockwerk's traits," said Andross, "all his accomplishments, his atrocities, pale in comparison to one. _Clockwerk scorned death itself_. With his mastery of technology, age had no claim to him!"

"Something I'm sure you-"

" **Listen,** " barked Andross, that mania only growing. "Listen to me, Penelope Earhart. A man is defined by his legacy. He has only a limited window to change the world. But Clockwerk shows us that this rule can be broken! I can build a utopia I will never be forced to abandon. My reign will be _eternal_."

Her skin was crawling by now. It didn't take a genius to see that giving _this_ 'genius' what he wanted was a terrifying prospect. Penelope, by her own admission, was not the most ethical person. But enabling some kind of forever-empire under the grip of an undying madman was… bad. Very bad. Not something she intended on doing.

Andross probably picked up on her reaction, because he managed to calm down. "We can save the grand speeches for the public. Miss Earhart, Clockwerk did the impossible. He accomplished what men have dreamed of since time immemorial… and he squandered that impossible gift on hatred, and vengeance, and a petty feud the world has forgotten. My only goal is to apply the same miracle to more constructive ends. To fix society and ensure it _remains_ fixed. Forever."

"You still haven't explained what you need me for."

"Quite right, and I apologise. I need you to assist me with this."

Andross reached into his desk and produced… something. It looked like a metal hard drive, but the absolute care with which he held it made its importance clear.

"This," he said, "is far more valuable than the notes I recovered. I believe it to be some kind of… black box. I have been exceedingly careful with it, of course. But if my initial investigations are correct, this is no mere recording. This is a _receiver_. Despite everything, the data had kept pouring in. Right until the final moments. Everything Clockwerk ever was, including his achievement of immortality…" He met Penelope's gaze, sombre. "I believe I am holding it in my hand."

"You think he's… in there? Like a backup?"

"It's more than possible. Clockwerk was a creature of steel and binary at the time of his 'death'. And-"

" _Wait._ "

Penelope stood firm, arms folded, eyes sharp. One of her whiskers was twitching.

"Let me clarify the facts you have just told me. You went through Clockwerk's notes."

"I did."

"You then discovered what appears to be a digital backup of his brain."

"Indeed! And with-"

"And the first thing you did," she yelled, "was to build an incredibly powerful fighter jet that _looks_ like the guy?! That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard! Are you _trying_ to get murdered by your own creation?! Because that's how you get murdered by your own creation!"

There was a silence.

Andross' face became drawn. For the first time, he lost even the ghost of his incessant smile.

"Do not presume to insult my intelligence."

"I'll presume what I like." Penelope met his gaze, undaunted. "And if your intelligence is insulted by me outlining the facts, that's your problem, not mine."

He held his glare for a moment, then sighed. "You represent a very important opportunity for me, Miss Earhart, so I will pretend that outburst was more tactfully worded."

Penelope was about to offer a few tactful words of her own, but he was smart enough not to give her the opening.

"You raise a valid concern, so let me assure you; the instant I even _suspected_ the black box contained Clockwerk's intelligence, and that said intelligence could potentially exist outside of it, I modified the jet's design on the double. It was built from the ground up to only function with a living, breathing pilot. No matter how advanced its computer systems may be, an AI could never control it."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Utterly." He smiled again, but it was a different smile. Oily. Self-important. Honest. "I am the finest aeronautical engineer on the planet. Among other things."

Penelope grunted. "I'd need to examine the blueprints myself."

"And I would be happy to show you. You will have full access to all of my systems… once you are officially my employee."

She let out a long, slow breath. This was even worse than she had expected. Clockwerk. Immortality. A wannabe god-emperor. How dearly she missed the innocent days of grand larceny and false identities. Hell, at this juncture, she sincerely missed her cell.

Andross tried to sound sympathetic. "I apologise if this is overwhelming. But you are my best hope, Miss Earhart - an undisputed mechanical genius, with at least some background in the subject. I appreciate you didn't deal with Clockwerk personally, but… those who did are hard to find."

"Yeah, dumbass," she said. "There's a _reason_ for that."

She glared up at the screen, stance firm.

"The last guy who meddled with this tech is dead. Y'know who killed him? His apprentice, when she stabbed him in the back and took the rig for herself. And she only lasted a couple hours before Cooper shut her down permanently. I wouldn't normally draw conclusions from a data set of two, but I'd say the pattern's very clear." Her voice didn't bend. "You want to live forever? _Stay away from this thing_. Because from where I'm standing, it does the opposite of make you immortal."

"So you're declining this job? Along with its astronomical salary?"

Penelope paused.

She made sure not to pause for too long, but she definitely paused.

"How astronomical are we talking?"

"Well," smiled Andross, "the ambition is to rebuild global society with yours truly on the throne, so if all goes to plan, I could quite literally provide you with all the money in the world. But," he said, predicting her objection, "you are an engineer. A technical consultant. And I know you will only work for payment upfront, to ensure against things _not_ going to plan. Am I correct?"

"For once."

He chuckled at that. "I thought so. I'm an engineer myself, after all, I do appreciate that practical mindset…"

"Then hurry up and make me an offer."

"Of course. I'm sure you'll find me a very reasonable employer. After all, the income itself is only as good as the benefits." He smiled. "For instance, might we consider liberating you from incarceration as something of a payment in kind?"

"No. The fact you _kidnapped_ me means I expect even more money."

"A valid perspective, I suppose…" he sighed. "Then let's put this in relative terms. What was your net worth at the time of your arrest?"

The figure on her digital bank accounts, now frozen. An easy number for Penelope to remember. "Eighteen million, two hundred and thirty-five thousand, seven hundred and fifteen dollars."

"Then I believe a fitting down payment would be three times that, which as I'm sure both of us know, would be, what? Fifty-four million, seven hundred and seven thousand, and one hundred and forty-five?"

"Alright," said Penelope, after a pause. "Alright, that's pretty good."

"I'm glad you find it equitable."

"Oh, I meant the mental arithmetic. Nice party trick. The money's… fine. It's a start. I expect more later."

"And I assure you, you'll get it."

He steepled his fingers, growing serious.

"I need you to begin right away. I apologise that there isn't more time to adjust, but my enemies are already mobilising."

"Ugh, mine too," said Penelope. "I hope you realize - you just plastered Clockwerk's face all over Zootopia. Sly Cooper _will_ involve himself in this, and bring lots of similarly annoying people along with him. You do get that, right?"

He laughed lightly. "I'm sure. And I suppose Cooper's track record is… notable."

"He 'notably' killed Clockwerk _twice_ as a younger, stupider guy."

"But the third time will not be the charm. This will be different, I promise you - Sly Cooper has never had to contend with the likes of me."

Penelope looked him over - the medals, the lab coat, the imperious mania gleaming in his eyes. "…Sure."

"There is but one person who can stand against my glorious new machine. And I am pleased to report it has already felled him." His smile widened. Sharp teeth on display. "But I do not settle for half-measures. My drones are hunting him down as we speak. And once I indulge myself in killing him personally, nothing shall obstruct my victory."

"As long as nothing obstructs my payment," said Penelope, mentally resigning herself to more Andross, "I guess I'll get started."

"Wonderful! I'm so happy to hear that. This project of course is a top priority of mine, so I'll endeavour to accommodate you in any way I can. Feel free to ask me anything." He gestured behind her. "For the moment, I will leave you in the capable hands of my pilot."

His smile was wide and bright and, in Penelope's eyes, almost impossibly punchable.

"Welcome aboard."

With that, the screen flicked off. Blackness.

Penelope wasn't able to enjoy the silence for long. Behind her, with a pneumatic hiss, the jet opened. Clockwerk's face folded apart - yet another needlessly horrible feature - revealing the cockpit. And revealing who, exactly, had been piloting it.

Her eyes widened and her tail froze and despite her best efforts she couldn't suppress the whisper that escaped her.

"Oh sh-!"


	5. You Got The Wrong Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10:13

* * *

"It happens."

Carmelita's voice was steady. She was poised in the passenger's seat. No indication that this situation was out of hand.

"It's our duty to be prepared. Obviously, you never _hope_ to face a crisis like this. But you need to accept it and deal with it when you do. It happens."

"With all due respect, Inspector," said Wolford from the backseat, "this, specifically, has never happened before. …Anywhere."

Fangmeyer was quiet, claws drumming against the steering wheel. Carmelita knew why. Her liaisons had been thrown by her request - her _order_ \- to investigate Menagerie Penitentiary. The city was still reeling, and Wolford and Fangmeyer didn't understand how it could be appropriate to leave.

Carmelita should have done this by herself. She knew that. Taken her personal vehicle and left the partners with the recovering ZPD. She justified her decision with the unknown variables. The prison was full of dangerous mammals. Anything could happen.

But she knew she didn't want to face the news alone.

Fangmeyer drove there in record time, silent and urgent. Eager to finish this quickly. But when they reached the prison, the cold atmosphere drained from the car.

"Oh," said Wolford lamely.

The wall was in ruins.

Concrete and wire lay scattered. Something had struck through from the other side. Something powerful.

"Damn." Fangmeyer parked some distance away, for safety - what remained of the wall didn't seem that stable. "Well, Inspector, can't say you were off-base."

"Let's go." Carmelita left the cruiser, heading straight for the wall. "We'll make this quick."

"We should probably…!" Wolford trailed off, watching as she ignored the front entrance and simply picked her way through the shattered concrete. "Or, okay, sure. That's… direct. I guess."

They followed. Walking through to the prison yard, they were met with an unusual sight.

There, sunning himself on a large chunk of debris like an ancient king, lay Leodore Lionheart. Paws comfortably behind his head. Lounging.

Carmelita glanced around as they drew near. "Uh. Hello?"

He cracked open an eye - then cracked a smile. "Ah, Inspector Fox. Officer Wolford. Sasha."

"Leo," rumbled Fangmeyer.

Wolford tugged on his partner's sleeve. " _Leo?_ " he mouthed, incredulous. The only reply he received was one of Fangmeyer's trademark smirks.

"What happened here?" demanded Carmelita.

"Ain't it obvious?" he said. "That big ugly bird happened. Swooped down on the prison and smashed through like it was nothing." He gestured, vaguely, to the gaping hole they had come through. "Plenty of my esteemed associates have already waltzed on out. You might want to look into that. Once you've handled everything else, of course."

"Not you, though?" said Fangmeyer.

"Eh," said Lionheart. "We'll see."

"Who left?" Carmelita's eyes burned. She had no time for this. "Was Sly Cooper one of the escapees?!"

"Um… I suppose he was. Technically."

Another vague wave of his hand indicated the ruined tower. Wolford watched half a brick come loose and tumble to earth.

"See, the bird had business with little Miss Earhart. Tried to kill her, I think. If it did, she was the only one it got. I mean, Taka broke damn near every bone in his body, but he'll live. Which is something he's _really_ jazzed about, as you can imagine, considering how he just broke every-"

"I _asked_ you," growled Carmelita, "about Cooper."

"That you did, yes. Poor kid went nuts. Wouldn't listen to me. Threw himself at the damn thing, and was still clinging to it when it flew back into the city."

"Uh… wow." Wolford blinked. "That sounds unbelievably dangerous."

"That's what I said! But he did it, and he's gone."

"Huh," said Fangmeyer. "An outlandish death for an outlandish man."

"No."

Carmelita's voice was steady.

"He's alive. And we're going to find him."

"Happy hunting, Inspector." Lionheart settled back down on his slab, eyes closed. "Say hi for me."

"Should we investigate the rest of the…?" Wolford's question trailed off as Carmelita strode back towards the cruiser. "Uh. Okay."

He and Fangmeyer fell into step behind her. But not as smoothly as they usually did. By the time they passed the broken wall, the tiger coughed.

"Permission to speak freely, Inspector?"

"Denied," she said.

"Alright, cool. Hey, real quick, I'm going on my break which as a union member I am entitled to despite my superior officer's orders provided we are not directly involved in an emergency situation."

"I-"

"Carmelita!" Fangmeyer's voice became hollowly jovial. "My good friend from the workplace! How pleasant to casually run into you while I am on my legally-protected break. Say, while we're chatting, I'd just like to ask you all informal-like _what the hell you're doing._ "

She whirled around. "Don't take that tone with me, Fangmeyer."

"Please, call me Sasha. I am, after all, on my-"

" _Look_." She drew herself up, somehow matching the towering tiger. "Do you know what that bird was? Because I do. While you two were here, dealing with parking violations and pickpockets, I was fighting for my life against threats like that. And so was Sly. He's involved in this, and I need to find him."

"Cool speech," said Fangmeyer. "But why? I get that you have this superhero vibe going on where you protect even the worst people, but like - this guy _kidnapped_ Nick and Judy." One huge paw gestured, violently, back to the city. "We've got millions of people who are losing their minds with worry, and your number one priority is some scumbag who has personally victimised our friends? _Why?!_ "

Carmelita said nothing.

Wolford's eyes bounced between them, silent. They had never disagreed like this. There was never reason to. Inspector Fox was a veteran, and her judgement had always made sense. Until now.

After a moment, she took a breath. She fixed her hair. And she spoke calmly. "I respect your position. And I recognize you could have spent this time in a number of different ways. Bringing you on this assignment was… inefficient."

"One word for it," said Fangmeyer.

"So," she said, "you don't have to keep following me. You're right. Your priority should be helping the city recover." She turned towards the car. "Let's head back."

Fangmeyer didn't move. "Are you going to tell us what the deal is with Cooper?"

Carmelita paused. But she didn't turn, keeping her back to them both.

"You don't have to." The tiger's arms folded with a huff. "But you can't expect us to understand your reasoning if you don't."

"I know," she said. "I…"

If Fangmeyer made out any weakness in her posture, it was gone by her next statement.

"Just stay focused, Sasha. Your instincts are good."

Fangmeyer scoffed lightly, but that was it. The argument had trailed off. For now.

Carmelita felt another pair of eyes on her, and turned to Wolford. "What?"

His ears were flat. "I, uh… I actually also want to go on break. For real, I mean. Sorry."

She pinched the bridge of her nose and slowly let out a breath. "…Everybody take five."

"Thanks. Sorry. Again."

* * *

Chief Bogo was made of stone. He didn't bend.

He could lose a few shavings, though.

Clawhauser couldn't help but glance up and down his boss. Laid out in a massive hospital bed, covered in reams of bandages, hooked up to machines smaller mammals could comfortably live inside. And yet his eyes were as sharp as ever. Like a lot of things regarding the Chief, Clawhauser found this inspiring and also quite scary.

"Hi, sir," he said, tentatively coming in. "How was the… building? That fell on you?"

"Could've been worse," said Bogo. That was all he felt needed to be said, apparently.

"Oh. Um, good." Clawhauser's tail curled around into his hands - he had a feeling this might become a conversation heavy on fidgeting. "And what about the mayor? And her family?"

Bogo huffed through his nose before answering. "Safe," he said. "That's the main thing."

"Yeah! That's great!"

"A direct attack on City Hall," he continued, "from an unknown party. Felt too much like an assassination attempt. The people need leadership now, but… they don't need a dead mayor, either."

Clawhauser noticed that Bogo's conversational rhythms were off. His breathing seemed strained. Not by much, though. He was powering through, as though this was any other briefing.

"I recommended the Dreemurrs go underground… just for a day or so. Until we know more. The mayor's sharp, but she's… a teacher. This is her first major crisis. Don't want it to be her last."

"I guess that makes sense," said Clawhauser. "But you just said we need a leader. If it isn't the mayor…?"

Bogo gave him a rare smile. "Won't be me."

With a nod, he indicated his torso.

"All my injuries are on the surface level."

"Oh. That's good."

"Which means," rumbled Bogo, "it hurts like hell if I move an inch."

"Oh. That's bad…"

"I'll recover, but not for a while. I need someone else to step in. For the force. For the _city_."

Bogo fixed those sharp, unstoppable eyes right on Clawhauser's.

"Ben."

"Y-yes?"

"You're a good cop."

"Thank you!"

"And I know I can trust you."

"I trust you too!"

"You don't need to reply to… everything I say."

"Okay, sorry."

"Ben, I need you to do something very important."

Dutifully, Clawhauser didn't reply. He simply waited, eyes wide, mouth agape, for the order that would reshape his destiny.

"…Find Inspector Fox."

"Oh," said Clawhauser. "Yeah, okay."

"She's extremely capable," said Bogo, "and if I remember her case history right… she knows things we don't. And… this goes without saying, but… keep Hopps and Wilde in the loop, too. The three of them are our best shot."

"Alright! That makes sense." Clawhauser tilted his head. "Is that what you meant about leadership? Get them to do it?"

"Our dynamic duo are… beloved by this city. Fox is a newcomer, but has the skill to offset that. Really," he admitted, "anyone. Higgins. Fangmeyer would be good. Just anyone except Deputy Chief Wuntch."

"Okay…?"

"Wuntch has been waiting her whole career… for a big crisis to prove herself in. Which would be fine if she had the skill to deliver, but I'm worried she doesn't."

"Alright. I got it, Chief-"

"Ben-" With a sudden motion - and a quiet hiss of pain - Bogo grabbed Clawhauser by the shirt, earning a squeak. "I am so deadly serious. Do _**not**_ let Wuntch handle this. Promise me that!"

"I-!" Clawhauser blinked. A lot. "Sure! I promise!"

"Good."

Bogo sank back slowly.

"I think this pain medication is kicking in," he said, "so I'm going to sleep now."

"That sounds like a good idea…"

Soon after, Clawhauser clicked the door shut behind him.

He fought his way out of the hospital. Outside, he met up with McHorn and Francine. They both looked exhausted. It was only mid-morning.

"Hi, Ben," said Francine with a little wave. "How's the chief?"

"Oh, y'know… still the chief. Still tough and scary. But he needs to stay in bed for at least a while."

"Thought so," huffed McHorn. "Toughest guy I ever met, but getting on in years. Still…"

He didn't finish the thought. They were all thinking the same thing. Whatever happened next, whatever fresh hell awaited them, the notion of facing it without the chief made it infinitely scarier.

"C'mon," said McHorn suddenly. "We gotta get back to it. Radios are still down, so we're heading back to HQ - want a lift?"

"Thanks."

Clawhauser settled into the back of their maximum-size cruiser. He let McHorn's curt rumblings and Francine's murmured suggestions fade into the background.

Already he was facing his first challenge. These people were his colleagues - McHorn was brusque, but reliable, and Francine had been a pillar of the precinct for years. He trusted them.

But he was new to this. He had never been given a task this monumental. And all he had to go on was that Inspector Fox was the chief's chosen replacement. So he just sank into silence, and didn't tell them about how his meeting with the chief had ended.

Benjamin Clawhauser was one of only very few mammals who knew where the mayor was.

* * *

"Well. Now what?"

Another district. Another crowded hospital. The roof of St. Bernard's Medical Centre was the one spot Judy could actually hear her partner speak.

"We need to do something." The cold wind, made more bitter by the altitude, tugged at his jacket. He didn't react. "The question is what."

"Yeah," she said quietly. "You're right."

Tundra Town stretched out below them - in the distance, a few sirens still blaring. The panic had begun to die down. But not completely. Whatever this was, it hadn't ended. Only slowed. For now.

"Any luck getting through to the ZPD?"

"I got on the WhatsYap group long enough to see Fangmeyer report there'd been a jailbreak," said Nick. "That owl thing blew open Menagerie after City Hall. But I didn't get any details before my connection crashed. Again."

Judy's ears were low. "Something else to worry about in all this chaos…"

She considered keeping her next thought to herself, but it wasn't in her nature to keep things from Nick.

"Any chance it was Sly?"

"Honestly? I doubt it. I know Bogo and Carmelita have been mumbling about that recently, but you remember what Sly said. He's… not budging. Not for a while, at least."

"Yeah." She sighed. "…Yeah."

It had been weighing on them lately. The Phantasm incident had been a vicious, personalised conspiracy, designed to ruin their lives even if they somehow survived it. They had both walked away… after Sly took the fall, accepting both a prison sentence and the loss of his reputation as a noble thief. They were grateful, and didn't dispute his assessment it was the best option on the table. But sometimes, returning to their lives as celebrated heroes felt like living a lie.

Nick crouched down, giving Judy a gentle smile. "C'mon, Carrots. I know what you're thinking. Focus up."

"Right. Sorry." She let out a breath. "We've got way, way bigger problems."

"We do," he said, "which is the only reason I'm interfering with the natural flow of your emotions. I am open to discussing this with you in more detail when time is available."

"Nick, just because you see a therapist doesn't mean you can talk like one."

"Incorrect. That's just your _feelings_ making you say that. Let's work through your wrongness. Together."

That got a chuckle out of her, and Nick grinned ear to ear. He stood, hands on hips.

"So. Like I said, we've obviously got to do something. Maybe heading back to HQ should be our first move?"

"Makes sense. I mean, we didn't always have phones and radios, right? There must be some kind of protocol for this."

"'Must be'?" Nick's ears rose. "I'm a little alarmed you're just guessing. I thought you knew the handbook inside out."

"I thought _you_ knew it inside out! Am I wrong? Is there something about all communication technology going down at once?"

"I," said Nick slowly, "don't recall. At this juncture."

"Me neither," she sighed. She pulled herself up. "Well, whatever. I'm sure Chief Bogo has a plan."

"Yeah. Say what you will about the guy, but he's dependable. He'll have something."

They started walking toward the roof's access door. Judy gave him a little smile. "Want to say goodbye to Fox on the way out?"

"I'll say goodbye to Lieutenant McCloud. I don't know anyone named 'Fox'."

"Nick."

"But yeah. He should be all set up now. The doctors seemed to give him priority."

"They did." Her smile was quiet, but triumphant. "Whatever else happened… there were few injuries. I'm really glad to hear that."

"Be proud, too." Nick gave her an extremely gentle punch on the shoulder. "Zootopia's defender, hard at work again."

"Heh. Thanks."

Nick's hand found the doorknob - and rested on it. He frowned, and Judy frowned too.

"What's wrong?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry. I'll let you out of the cold." He opened the door. "Just… thinking about what Fox was saying."

"I'm sorry, who?" she sang.

" _Lieutenant McCloud_. Darn it," he muttered. "Y'know, how he was like… How he knew who was behind this. How he wanted to cut this off at the source."

"Yeah." Judy stepped into the corridor. "I totally get that. And that's probably what it's going to take. But…"

"It's not our burden," said Nick. His voice was surer than hers. "As much as we've done, we're still just traffic cops. International terrorists with decades-long résumés are above our paygrade. _Way_ above." He joined her in the corridor, shutting the door. "We'll do as much as we can, but right now-"

There was a loud slam, juddering through the hospital roof.

Nick closed his eyes and took a breath through his nose. "Please don't be another robot."

He swung the door back open. It was another robot.

It was the same towering design as the ones that had swooped down at the park. Nick noticed something off about the shape of its torso, the way the metal was angled to leave a large empty space. But he hadn't much time to ponder that. Not when it began to drag itself towards the door.

" **Hey!** " Judy moved like a bullet, past Nick and under its legs. "Over here, ugly!"

"It's probably after Fox!" said Nick, drawing his shock pistol. "We need to take it down!"

As he stepped out and slammed the door shut, the drone made a sweeping slash at Judy. She dodged its claws, eyes burning.

She held its attention as Nick shot it in the head. And she kept it, because the blast of electricity elicited no reaction.

"That," muttered Nick, "is a problem."

He started calculating how quickly he could rush down to Fox's room, borrow his horrifyingly dangerous laser-toy, and rush back. Judy would be fine. Judy, he reflected, as she bounced off the robot's arm and handily flipped over another sloppy slash, was always fine.

"Keep it busy, Carrots, I'll be right back!"

"Sure!"

Nick reached for the door - but as it followed Judy's movements, the robot's gaze fell on him. Those angular yellow lights locked on to his eyes, wide and green.

It stopped.

And then, with unnatural, mechanical speed, it rushed him.

" _Uh-!_ " Nick managed to tear the door open and fling himself inside. The drone slammed into the doorframe, its spiked shoulders stuck - but with one large clawed hand, it gripped his tail like a vice.

Nick barely had time to process what had happened before it began to pull.

"Ow ow _ow ow_ _ **ow**_ _-_ " Dragged along the cold floor, Nick twisted around to shoot another salvo at the robot's face, still to no effect. "H-Hopps! **Judy!** I-"

"I'm here!"

She threw herself against the mechanical creature. It felt like she was making no impact. But the robot itself clearly disagreed, turning its eyes back to her. It sized her up, reached out with its free hand-

and flung her off the roof.

" **No!** " Nick's voice came out high and raw, choked by something therapy may have wedged loose - but as he watched, unable to tear his eyes away from the gory details, he saw Judy realign in mid-air. With a battlecry, she managed, barely, to alter her trajectory. One paw slammed on the roof's edge, quickly joined by another. Safe. Alive.

Judy was always fine. But Nick was now reminded that the same was rarely true of him.

The robot dragged him out to the roof, those hellish yellow eyes never leaving him. Since the bolts had done no damage, he threw his pistol, as hard as he could, into its face. It bounced off.

The other claw found his shoulder, and then he was being hefted. Easily. He weighed nothing to it. Nick didn't know what was going to happen next, but it didn't take decades of pessimistic instinct to know it was nothing good.

His eyes met Judy's as she pulled herself up - and despite everything, he managed a smile.

"Hey, Carrots? Listen to me, okay?"

"Nick!"

"Everything's going to be-"

He felt a lurch. And Judy watched the drone snatch him close and slam its torso shut around him.

For a second she froze, still on the ledge. She couldn't quite process where Nick had gone. But there would be just enough space to uncomfortably fit an adult fox, if he was cruelly stuffed inside, if he-

The drone, with mechanical calm, turned northeast and began to move.

"Wait! Stop!" Judy's feet finally hit the roof, and went into an immediate sprint. " **Nick!** Nick, I'll-!"

Ignoring her, the robot spread its steel wings and took off.

" _ **No!**_ "

She ran after it, full pelt, and leapt up - but her fingers only brushed against the metal. She had to stop before she fell off the roof.

It flew away.

The cold, analytical part of her brain, the part that handled investigations, watched its movements. Noted the perfect, robotic line it travelled as it passed over the city. Shortest route. Programmed destination. Based on the midmorning sun, north by northeast. But that was only one part of her brain. Quietly working against the rest.

She watched it go.

"Cool," said Judy. "Cool cool. That's fine. Cool cool cool. Great. I can handle this. Cool cool cool cool. Cool."

She stood firm, ears tall, eyes hard.

Then she screamed.


	6. City Limits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10:19

  


* * *

"C'mon c'mon c'mon-"

Judy was back on the hospital roof, hoping altitude - hoping anything - would help. Her cellphone was useless, but after she burst into Fox's hospital room in a blind panic, he had gladly lent her his own. It was military-grade, with better odds of getting through the communications blackout. Maybe.

She still knew the number off by heart, so the rest was a matter of patience; trying to contain the nervous energy vibrating through her.

On her third attempt, success. Garbled static gave way to Carmelita's voice. "Inspector Fox. How did you get th-?"

"Carmelita! Nick's in danger!" Judy's free hand tugged at her ears. "We - we were with this pilot, and that owl came with these drones things, kinda like the Phantasm I think, and-"

" _Judy_." The authority in Carmelita's voice was oddly soothing. "Slower."

"S-sorry." She took a breath. "Something grabbed Nick and just - _took_ him. It was moving fast, it might have already left Zootopia."

"I see." There was a pause, but not for long. They both knew the line could fail at any moment. "We have a responsibility to this city."

"I know," said Judy miserably.

"But," said Carmelita, "I already put that responsibility ahead of someone today, and it wasn't pleasant. The situation's in hand. I'm on the way."

"Carmelita!" Judy's eyes shone. "Thank you!"

"Where are you?"

"St. Bernard's, in Tundra Town."

"I'll meet you outside the front entrance. Be ready to leave - I won't be long."

"You're closeby?"

"No. But I'll be quick. Last week, Fangmeyer talked me into something."

Judy didn't have time to ponder what that meant - she'd find out soon enough. "Okay!" she said, already moving for the stairs. "See you soon, I'll be-"

* * *

"-right here."

Bentley double-checked his laptop as Murray parked the disguised Van behind St. Bernard's Medical Centre. The hospital was still incredibly busy, but with Clockwerk's disappearance, it was slowly resuming its usual rhythm; very busy.

Sly was unwilling to part with his outfit after finally getting it back, so he opted to throw his disguise over it. His shirt looked enough like scrubs anyway, once paired with a lab coat. "Somewhere in there, huh?"

"Sorry I can't get more concrete information, Sly. I've really had difficulty getting into official channels… or anywhere, for that matter. But the personal chatter I've found indicates this hospital is treating one of the pilots."

"Good work." Sly set his hat down. Temporarily. "Let's head inside, find him, and see if he knows anything."

His eyes wandered to Murray as he finished his own disguise.

"I know we've had this conversation before, pal, but - the nurse's scrubs should be enough. You don't need to add the wig."

"There's a difference between 'need' and 'want', Sly," replied Murray, checking his blonde locks in the rearview mirror.

"Well, if it makes you happy, go for it."

They approached the rear entrance. Bentley barely used a disguise at all. Just having Murray push his wheelchair immediately gave them space.

Sly imagined Bentley would've liked to dress up as a doctor at least once.

Security was stretched thin, so a vague flash of their fake IDs saw them ushered inside. Without breaking his stride, Sly swiped a patient list from a nurses' station, checked it over, and returned it to an exhausted orderly without making eye contact.

"Got anything?" said Bentley.

"Doctors' handwriting remains impenetrable, but there's somebody marked as a Lieutenant on the top floor."

"That's definitely them!" said Murray. "They're a pilot! They'd want to be high up, right?"

"I mean, they were just blown out of the sky, so not necessarily…"

People awkwardly made room for them in an elevator. They rose, unknowingly passing a rabbit sprinting down the stairwell. The upper floors, at least, were a bit quieter. Room _6.4_ stood ready.

"A private room when it's this busy? Definitely seems like special treatment." Sly grasped the doorknob. "Let's see what we've got…"

They entered.

A fox was lying in bed, both his legs propped up in casts. He was the only occupant. The room was empty except for a battered knapsack leaning against the bed, which seemed to contain his personal effects.

He was placidly eating a cup of hospital jello.

His bright green eyes went from the window to the door as they entered. "Hello!"

"Hi there." Sly flashed his fake I.D. again, slower than he had for the guards downstairs - but not by much. "Lieutenant…?"

"McCloud. But you can call me Fox!"

"Okay." Sly gave him a grin. "Seems a little impersonal, but if that's how it is, feel free to call me Raccoon."

"No, no!" Fox laughed goodnaturedly. "I go by 'Fox', that's all."

"Lieutenant," said Bentley, "we have some questions we need you to answer…"

"Only if you're up for it, though!" Murray smiled. "Are you feeling okay after that crash?"

"Absolutely!" Fox matched his expression. "This is just a minor setback. As soon as I convince this hospital to discharge me, I'll be straight back to the fight!"

"And how long is that gonna take?"

"The doctors said six to eight weeks, but I was thinking more six to eight hours."

Sly chuckled, but trailed off when Fox's facial expression showed no sign of changing. "That's… um. You're joking, right?"

"No." He fidgeted. "I need to get back to what I was doing."

"I mean, sure - that's what we wanted to talk to you about - but…"

"You're injured," said Bentley bluntly. "It looks serious. There's no way you can fly."

"I disagree," said Fox. "I am - and I'm not being braggy, because my father taught me not to do that - but I am the world's greatest pilot."

Murray blinked. Sly tilted his head. Bentley rolled his eyes.

"Okay," said Fox blithely. "I mean - I did pilot well enough to survive a dogfight against an unknown aircraft over a densely populated city, so… I can't be too bad."

"He's got a point," noted Sly, turning to Bentley. "There were two other pilots, right? How did they do?"

"Not well," said Bentley. "Lieutenant McCloud, I don't mean to add to your distress…"

"It's okay," said Fox. "I'd like to hear the official record."

"Very well. Both jets were shot down by… the other aircraft. One of them was fished out of the Canal District in the last hour. Orange-6, it has the word 'Tracer' written on one wing…?"

"Oh!" said Fox. "Lieutenant Oxton. She's very friendly. How is she?"

"Well… they actually didn't recover her from the crash site…" Bentley adjusted his glasses, mostly to give his hand something to do. "She's been listed as MIA, but…"

"That's fine."

"Uh, it is?"

"Sure," smiled Fox. "Lena's gone missing before. It can be hard to find a squirrel! She'll be okay."

"…Right."

"Only three of you, huh?" said Sly, eager to push things along. "Who was the third?"

"Lieutenant Dameron!" said Fox. "Also very nice. How's he doing?"

Bentley mumbled something into his hand.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear that."

"I said he exploded," said Bentley miserably. "We saw him take a shot directly to the engines, and… They're combing the area now, but it's the inhospitable part of Sahara Square just by the climate wall, so…" He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay."

"It is?" said Sly flatly.

"Sure!" said Fox. "Poe's plane has exploded before. He'll be fine."

Silence hung in the room for a moment.

"Hey buddy excuse us real quick," said Murray.

"Okay!"

The trio turned, huddling in. Murray splayed his huge arms around them as though he could physically block Fox's hearing. "I dunno whether the other pilots are all magic," he whispered, "or if this guy is just really…"

"Unhinged?" offered Sly.

"I was gonna say 'optimistic', but maybe that's stretching the word…"

"I agree," murmured Bentley. "The guy was just in a serious crash. It's possible he has a concussion or… or something. I'm dubious about what he can really tell us."

"Guess that leaves me to play Weirdo's Advocate," replied Sly. "He's our only lead. If we can't get anything solid out of him, we'll try something else. But right now, I say we ask one more question."

With that, they broke, turning back to Fox. He met their collective gaze with a smile.

Sly drifted closer to the bed. "Lieutenant McCloud."

"Yes, Mister Cooper?"

"What we need from you is-" Sly cut himself off. "Wait. What did you just say?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." If Sly had read the words on paper, massive sarcasm would be the inescapable interpretation. But the fox's tone was as sincere as ever. "Are you not Sly Cooper? The thief on the news? I just assumed you were, because you're a raccoon and a hippo and a turtle, and you look a lot like the person who bounced off my Arwing, and also the I.D. you showed me was fake."

For a second, the only sound was the muted beeping of medical equipment.

"Oh," mumbled Sly.

"Um," mumbled Murray.

"I suppose it doesn't help that turtles are such a rarity," mumbled Bentley.

"Hold up!" said Murray. "If you knew who we were, why were you being so polite?!"

"I had no reason to be rude…"

"He's a soldier, not a cop," noted Sly. "He's not obligated to tattle on us. I think."

"But if you've been following the news," said Bentley, "you know that Sly is supposed to be in jail right now, awaiting very serious criminal charges."

"Yes. But that's okay! Actually, that means I have something to offer you!"

"You gonna blackmail us or something?" said Sly. "You don't seem the type."

"I'm not. I had the opposite in mind." Fox smiled. "I could arrange a Code White."

"Oh." Sly needed a second for that to sink in. "… _Oh_."

"You have authority to do that?" said Bentley.

"Not personally. But there's a general who owes me a favour! I'd be happy to introduce you - if you help me."

He grew serious, his eyes becoming sharper.

"If I'm right about who's behind this… we're all in terrible danger. I need talented people to help me turn this around, and that's exactly what you are."

Bentley turned to Sly. "What do you think? A Code White was always a possibility, but it was too unlikely for us to give it serious thought…"

Sly rubbed his face. "You were making a lot of careful, steady progress - which I completely tanked when I made the news for kidnapping two heroes. I gotta say, a silver bullet like this is real tempting."

This conversation was starting to wander away from Murray, so he wandered away from it first. Checking over the room, he moved toward the window, and the view it offered of the street below.

"But let's not get ahead of ourselves." Sly glared at Fox. "Are you suggesting what I think you are? That we smuggle you out of this hospital, right now, before your injuries heal?"

"Yes."

"So leaving aside the fact we're not healthcare professionals, and don't have time to literally carry your weight, you want me to solve this problem by _kidnapping another hero_."

"Well…"

"Oh hey," said Murray. "Judy's outside."

"Judy?" Sly's ears perked, and he came over. Sure enough, Judy was on the street. Hugging herself. One foot tapping wildly. "She seems upset…"

"That's understandable," said Fox. "It's probably because her partner was kidnapped about ten minutes ago."

" _ **WHAT?!**_ "

Sly's fur stood on end, his eyes aflame.

"You're saying we've been sitting around chatting while my boy Nick is **in danger?!** "

"Oh!" said Fox. "You're friends? I didn't kn-"

"Judy!" Sly banged on the glass. "Judy, I'm…!"

"Sly, easy!" yelled Bentley. "You'll give away our position!"

"C'mon, I gotta-!" Sly pulled on the window, but it wouldn't budge. "Why won't this thing open?!"

"We're on the highest floor of a hospital," noted Fox. "It's probably to make sure I don't throw myself to my death!"

" **Stop saying horrible things so cheerfully!** "

Sly abandoned the window, meeting his brothers' eyes.

"We're going. Nick takes precedence."

Murray went to say something, but an urgent voice cut across him.

"Wait! Don't leave me!"

They stared at Fox. For the first time, his cheerful exterior was gone. His green eyes were wide, slightly frantic.

"I'm not out of this fight - I can't be! Take me with you and I'll help any way I can!"

"Are you high?" said Sly, already at the door. "We don't have time for this! We're gone!"

"I agree," said Bentley. "I know from first-hand experience it's best to just-"

Without a word, Murray gently scooped Fox out of the bed.

Sly frowned. "Murray-"

"You wanna argue," he said, slinging Fox's bag over his shoulder, "or you wanna catch up to Judy?"

Sly didn't argue. They left. Together.

He and Murray sprinted down the corridor, Bentley hurriedly wheeling to keep up. Despite the breathless tempo of the hospital, every single person they passed stopped to stare at them.

Sly grinned hollowly. "Okay I guess we're leaning into the 'kidnapping heroes' thing!"

A sheep planted herself in their path, eyes firm. "What are you doing with that patient?!"

Murray dodged past the nurse with surprising deftness. "This guy is **very** sick we gotta get him to a hospital!"

"But-!"

She disappeared behind a corner, but Sly still winced. "Not your best work, pal."

"I panicked!"

"We should hurry," said Fox. "This hospital is probably equipped with some kind of-"

A piercing wail cut through every corridor, bursting from the elderly PA system.

"-alarm."

"Very… astute," wheezed Bentley. " _Thank_ … you."

"You're welcome!"

Murray repositioned Fox - careful with his injured legs - and hefted Bentley's entire wheelchair with his other arm. "I'll get them to the Van! Sly, get to Judy!"

"Good plan!"

"Hey!" yelled a guard, a solid wall of elk. "Put him dow-!"

Sly had enough time to see Murray headbutt his blond wig straight into the guard's face before he finally, _finally_ made it to an open window.

It was to the rear of the hospital. Sly could glance to the Van - there, waiting, ready to go - but he was on the wrong side from Judy. He grabbed a pipe and slid to ground level at dangerous speed. When his lab coat snagged on a light fixture, he abandoned it and kept going.

He hit the ground running.

In moments, he had sprinted around the hospital's perimeter. He readied himself to yell for Judy-

-and saw something that left him speechless.

With a low roar, a bright yellow motorcycle tore down the street. The driver saw Judy and came to an impressive stop, pulling the brake and twisting the bike so her foot and both wheels dragged against the ground, perpendicular to the road.

Despite the opaque red helmet she wore, Sly knew who it was. He would recognize her anywhere.

"Get on!"

"Oh my gosh, _gladly!_ " Judy ran up and hopped on, wrapping her arms around Carmelita's waist. It looked cool and daring despite being, essentially, a hug, which Sly felt was very Judy.

With a rev of the engine, Carmelita took off.

Sly stood there, dumbly, for what felt like an hour. "That was the best thing I've ever seen in my life," he mumbled, "and I have zero time to savour it."

"Sly!"

The Van shot towards him. Signalling them not to slow down, he ran for the passenger door.

Murray had the window rolled down just in time for his pounce. That manoeuvre was muscle memory for them both. The Van didn't slow as Sly settled into his seat. "I've got eyes on her!" Murray matched a brisk turn from Carmelita - he couldn't close the gap between them, but the distance wasn't widening either. "Is that a new bike?"

"Must be…"

"Feels weird that we're the ones chasing her, huh?"

"Yeah." Sly found a smile. "It is."

"I can only assume from her _exuberant_ driving that she and Hopps have a lead on Wilde's location," said Bentley from the back.

"Then I gotta keep up!" Murray glanced - briefly - to where Fox was propped against the Van's wall. "You okay back there, little buddy?"

Fox smiled. "No!"

Murray opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Just focus on the road," said Sly gently, one hand on Murray's shoulder. "He'll be fine."

They tore through Tundra Town. Sly watched Carmelita take a series of sharp turns, unfazed by the speed. He wondered how Judy was handling it. No matter how daunting it was to sit on that motorcycle, he envied her.

"Huh," said Murray, after yet another turn.

"What?" Sly fixed his hat back in place.

"They're going, like… diagonal." Murray had gotten into a rhythm of heaving the steering wheel back and forth. "This city's newish, right? It's all square blocks. But they're going diagonal."

"You're right," said Bentley. His laptop was set to a GPS program, Tundra Town laid out neatly. "We're going north by northeast as the crow flies."

"That would make sense - ouch." A pothole jostled Fox, but he barely stirred. "Judy said something about an aerial drone. That's what took Nick."

"Oh, of course. If it's automated, it'll take the shortest route to its destination…"

"…meaning all Judy had to do," finished Sly, "was watch it leave and point Carmelita in the right direction."

"It's a start," said Bentley. "But any number of things could go wrong with that approach. There's no guarantee they'd actually find Wilde."

"They need help. And we're gonna provide it." Sly glanced to Murray. "Can you catch up?"

"Who are you talking to?! Don't just tell me to drive faster!"

"Right. Yep. Sorry."

The buildings were thinning. They were reaching the edge of the city. Carmelita disappeared into the climate wall, and they followed.

After a few seconds of darkness, they burst out into the cold sunlight. This mountain road was still technically within the city limits, and there were scattered signs announcing they were about to exit Zootopia.

There was something else, too.

Sly's voice broke the shocked silence. "Hey, Murray?"

"Y…yeah?"

"Drive faster."

The sky had gone dark.

Drones - thousands of them - were descending on the city. Except they weren't. They were falling into a formation, hovering in place. Each one a mechanically perfect distance away from the others, slowly forming into a pattern.

"It's - it's a dome," said Bentley. "They're creating a physical blockade of the city…"

Sly tried to sound focused. "How many robots would that take?"

"Too many," said Bentley. "Way, _way_ too many to make sense. How could anyone amass the resources to…?"

Murray didn't ponder it. He drove faster.

Carmelita was doing the same. The blockade was forming in the sky and moving down, so there was still space to leave. Dwindling. Her motorcycle roared its defiance as she sped up, Judy clinging on tight.

"I don't know about this!" Bentley was forced to drop the abstract anxiety about the enemy force for the much more immediate and pressing terror of a car crash. "They're coming down too fast!"

"We can't slow down!" yelled Sly. "If we get trapped in here while Carmelita and Judy are outside-!"

"If we break the Van against this _**metal wall-!"**_

"This is fine," smiled Fox.

Murray ignored them all. His focus was unbreakable, aided by an ancient sense of purpose, and his hands were steady, tight on a steering wheel he had gripped his whole life.

Carmelita and Judy disappeared under the falling metal shadow. And Murray didn't slow.

They broke through.

There was a piercing screech as the Van hit metal on all sides. But it had survived much worse. And just like that, it was out, losing nothing but the black shell disguising it. The last vehicle to escape before the dome fell.

The sound caught Judy's attention, and she finally looked over her shoulder. Sly met her wide-eyed stare with a grin and a wave. But neither vehicle slowed. There was, somehow, an excess of drones. Bearing down on the escapees.

"We've got a problem!" Sly's grin dropped as he noticed a shadow above them. "We're safe in here, but the motorcycle-!"

"Bentley!" Murray swerved the Van straight into a drone, knocking it to the ground. "Back door!"

Bentley opened the door, aiming his crossbow at the trailing drones. He was mildly surprised when Fox pulled himself closer. He was very, very surprised when Fox produced an experimental energy weapon and began felling drone after drone with calm, precise shots.

With their combined efforts, the attacking force thinned out. Almost. Sly watched in horror as one last drone sped past the Van and aimed straight for the motorcycle.

" _No-!_ "

Judy's ear perked. And an instant later, the drone tackled them.

Sly watched as they were thrown from the motorcycle - and Carmelita twisted in mid-air, grabbing Judy by the wrist and pulling her close. They fell from the highway and Carmelita hit the dirt with a grunt. She rolled, and rolled, and soon stopped at the bottom of a ditch.

"Judy!" Carmelita's concern was obvious despite her helmet muffling her voice. She still clutched the rabbit to her chest. "I'm so sorry you didn't have a helmet - are you okay?"

"Worse things have happened," said Judy, similarly muffled.

Carmelita looked up, seeing the drone stand - and get rammed by the Cooper Van, now back to its triumphant blue exterior. Sly tore himself out and sprinted for her.

"'Lita!"

Carmelita found herself being pulled to her feet and directly into a tight, warm hug.

"Oh, 'Lita, don't scare me like that. Are you okay?"

"Uh," she said, "yes."

After a moment, her arms responded, returning the embrace.

"Are you?"

"I'm fine." His voice was low. "It's so good to see you."

"Thanks," she murmured. "Sorry that I didn't come sooner. With Clockwerk back, I should've-"

"It's okay." His voice was as warm as his body. "We're together now. That's all that matters."

They both lapsed into silence. But the moment was soon punctured by Sly's voice.

"Is it just me, or is there something kinda off about this hug?"

"…Oh my god, Judy-!"

Carmelita leapt back, and a rabbit fell from between them, heaving in breath.

"Are you alright?"

"Again," said Judy, resting a hand on Sly's torso to steady herself, "worse things have happened."

He smiled. "Good to see you, too."

Sly led them back to the highway. Carmelita went for her motorcycle, now lying behind the Van. Scuffed, but still solid. She felt eyes on her as she righted it, but before she could greet Bentley and Murray a different voice spoke up.

"Hello, Inspector Fox!"

"Oh!" Her ears perked. "Lieutenant McCloud. I didn't know you were here. How are you?"

"Good!" he smiled. "Except I can't walk."

"…I see."

Judy wasn't looking at the Van, or anyone else. Her eyes travelled along the road, the broken drones, before reaching the shadow covering her city. The dark metal fist crushing Zootopia.

Sly drifted up behind her. "I'm sorry. I'm sure this is hard."

Her stance hardened. "Of course it's hard. But I can _handle_ 'hard'." She turned to the Van, catching Bentley's eye. "Is there any way of turning them off? There has to be!"

"Um," said Bentley. "Theoretically, yes. But I don't have any data to work with. It's not as simple as 'hacking their mainframe', or even hitting them with an electromagnetic pulse. We don't know where they're coming from, and we don't know how they're made."

"Plus," said Murray, turning in his seat, "the longer we hang around here, the more danger we're in."

"But… that can't be it." Judy's ears slowly fell. "There are millions of people who'll be trapped! What are we supposed to do?"

"The only thing we can."

The strength in Carmelita's voice caught everyone's attention. Her motorcycle was ready. Her boots were firm. And her eyes were burning.

"We move forward."


	7. Nick Wilde Needs YOU to stop.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10:59

Nick was feeling more than a little airsick.

As a rule, he tried to stay flexible. To expect the unexpected. Anything could happen on the beat in Zootopia, especially when your partner was Judy Hopps. And it was obvious that today was going to be exponentially harder and weirder than most.

But getting crammed into a tiny metal space rattling above the earth at the approximate speed and altitude of an airplane was pretty tough on his stomach.

Normally, he would have tried to take in what information he could - in a car, he could keep track of turns, streets. But he had nothing to go on, beyond 'high' and 'fast' and 'kinda juddery'. So instead, he curled up in his jacket, managed his breathing, and waited.

Sooner or later, Judy would find him.

All he knew was that he was some distance out of Zootopia - the trip was long and in a perfectly straight line. He couldn't even gauge how high he was, so when the contraption slowed to a surprisingly smooth stop, it was only the sensation of touching down that told him it had landed.

It didn't open, though. That would have been too easy.

After a minute of slowly breathing in that same stale air, Nick tried getting out. The metal doors that had snapped shut around him wouldn't yield. He tried worming his claws into the seam where they met, to no avail.

"Okay," he murmured to himself. "This is fine. I'm probably not going to die in this tiny metal hole, specifically, although I-"

Without warning they snapped back open.

Nick crashed against a cold floor - a warehouse? No, a hangar. The home of that terrible metal owl, which loomed over the entire space. Inert, thankfully, but still huge and horrific. Biting back his reaction, he stayed down. He couldn't act rashly. Not when he had no information about where he was.

Then came a familiar voice.

"Well, now…"

A tall figure sauntered toward him, backlit imposingly. All Nick could make out – all he needed to – were spikes on the jacket's shoulders.

"It's been a long time… _Fox_."

Nick bared his teeth. "Not long enough, dirtbag. It's only been a couple months."

The figure stopped short.

There was a silence. Nick blinked, his defiance giving way to confusion.

"The hell?" murmured the figure, apparently as lost as he was.

With that, the lighting changed. The searchlight which had been carefully set up behind his captor snapped off, and Nick's eyes adjusted to the more pedestrian lights that flickered on above.

Wolf O'Donnell stood over him.

" _You_ ," said Nick, hoping he sounded intimidating.

" **You?!** " spluttered Wolf, eye wide.

He looked different. Very different. The strikingly purple outfit Wolf had worn during the Phantasm incident was gone, which legitimately disappointed Nick, but he had no way of expressing that which wouldn't sound sarcastic. Wolf's outlandish style had been pared back significantly. Dark pants. Heavy black vest. Blue jacket.

But the biggest change was his face. The eyepatch on his left side was gone. Instead, a thin blue light glared down at Nick, affixed into place with metal bands. There was something ominous about how it glowed.

"This is terrible! I'm done with you! I am _so_ done with you! I wanted Fox!"

Wolf pushed past Nick, yelling at the drone that had brought him here.

"You useless pile of- does this look like Fox McCloud to you?!" He pointed at his own forehead. "He's got a… His fur goes white at the top! Like **this!** " The drone did nothing.

"Wow," said Nick. "You're really worked up over this."

"I've been waiting for this for…!" He trailed into a low growl. "You little punk, if you tried playing hero and took Fox's place…!"

Nick held up his paws defensively. "I don't have the reflexes for that! This thing came straight for me, I swear."

Wolf glowered down at him. Finally, he nodded. "Yeah. You're too cowardly to do this on purpose."

"Glad we're on the same page…"

He took a step closer. "Y'know," he snarled, "since you're here, you could help me work off some _stress…_ "

Nick had years of experience with this kind of situation. At this point, he didn't even flinch. He merely cycled through the relevant information he knew about Wolf and selected the strongest possible argument. "What? And damage the goods?"

Wolf stopped, looming over Nick. He said nothing, watching him with those cold eyes. One purple and sharp, the other icily bright.

"I don't know if you've noticed," said Nick, "but I'm kind of a hot commodity. Let's leave aside the fact that if you hurt me, Judy and Carmelita and Sly _will_ break your bones, which will be awkward for everyone because I'm sure it'd take them ages to even work out how."

Wolf snorted. Progress!

"Instead," continued Nick, "think of it this way: you kidnapped Nick Wilde! Yay! Is there someone you would like to try ransoming me to, like Chief Bogo, or Mayor Goatmom? My _own_ mom, maybe?"

Nick's efforts earned a beleaguered sigh. "Ugh. _Fine_. You might be some use after all."

Wolf grabbed him by the shoulder. His grip was even more steely than Nick remembered.

"But I'm not running point on this. You'll have to take it up with my boss."

He dragged him to one of the walls. Nick blinked. It looked very much like a flatscreen television had been mounted in this military aircraft hangar.

Wolf planted him in front of the screen, keeping one powerful paw on his shoulder. "Priority call to Andross."

The screen replied in a computerized voice. " _Enter Pass Code._ "

"Venom."

" _Pass Code Accepted. Routing Call To. Andross._ "

The screen flickered on, and Nick immediately scanned the feed for details; ornate office, no visible windows. Snow monkey in ludicrous getup. Straightening his tie and shuffling his papers. Interrupted.

"O'Donnell? I trust this is important enough to warrant…"

When he noticed Nick, his reaction was much the same. He trailed off into a confused frown.

"…What's this?"

"This," growled Wolf, "is proof you need me. You better keep the mouse and the other fella satisfied, too. Because your robots are **thick as** _ **rocks!**_ "

"Ah." Andross inspected Nick closely. "I see. A similar enough build to McCloud that the targeting software… Oh dear." His frown turned sympathetic. "Extremely unfortunate. I apologize."

"I definitely do not forgive you," said Nick.

Andross tilted his head. "But wait a bit - a red fox with a police uniform and a biting wit, irrespective of dangerous conditions?" He leaned forward. "What serendipity! Officer Nicholas Wilde. I had my eye on you already."

"Gross."

He waved a hand. "Nothing untoward, I assure you! It's simply that my plans for your hometown could use the support of people like you and your partner. We are undoubtedly off to a poor start, but there's no reason for things to continue that way." The monkey broke into a wide smile. "Please, permit me to introduce myself. I am kn-"

"I know who you are, Andy."

Nick folded his arms. His cool con-artist shell had slipped back on easily. Some people deserved nothing else.

"Lieutenant McCloud filled me in about you. And about your dumb plans."

Andross loosed a dramatic sigh. "Such a pity. It sounds like you've already decided your opinion of me, Officer Wilde."

"Even before you abducted me, yes." Nick quirked an eyebrow. "I mean, an _accidental_ kidnapping? That's just embarrassing. If you got the right guy, that would still make you as immoral as any other politician. But at least half of them aren't stupid enough to mess up this badly."

Nick caught a flash of anger in Andross' eyes on the word 'stupid', mentally filing away that useful note. But the monkey had experience of his own. "Ah. It's clear you hold the political class in low regard, Nicholas. May I call you Nicholas?"

"Absolutely not."

"Officer Wilde," continued Andross, and Nick reveled in that tiny victory, "it is no secret that despite its bumper-sticker slogans about equality and opportunity, Zootopia has been nothing short of barbaric to its resident foxes. The current system, based as it is in vicious positivity and a 'bootstraps' mentality, is of little use to overlooked individuals such as yourself."

"Y'know," said Nick, "'pull yourself up by your bootstraps' is one of those phrases that's ended up meaning the opposite of what it's supposed to. It's physically impossible to move yourself upward by pulling on your own clothes. It's meant to describe an impossible task, which is… pretty fitting, considering the way self-righteous old folks use it."

"Yes! Precisely!" Andross' eyes shone. "We are on the same page."

"There's a bunch of ones like that. Like 'curiosity killed the cat, but… something brought it back'. I can't remember that one, but it's the same."

Andross' smile faded.

"That's not getting into how it's a little weird it's a cat, specifically…"

"In my experience," said Wolf, mostly to assert he was still there, "cats ain't anything special. In terms of intellectual curiosity _or_ mortality."

"I'm not gonna pry too deeply into that." Nick tilted his head. "The gnarliest one is 'blood is thicker than water', which is _actually_ 'the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb'. The bonds you make yourself are more important than the ones you're just born into - again, total opposite!"

"I can see why that one's confusing, though," said Wolf. "'Related by blood' and that stuff."

"Sure. It's been a while since we signed contracts in blood. 'Water', though? I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure-"

"Officer Wilde," said Andross forcefully. "You're mocking me."

"Huh? Oh. Guess so. I was just eager to change the subject to something more interesting." Nick returned Andross' gaze, unfazed. "I'd say it's more like I was ignoring you."

"Disappointing."

"That's what I do when someone boring corners me at a party. Or a hostage situation."

His eyes narrowed.

"Since you're so eager to talk politics, here's an incredibly rare Nick Wilde Political Tract. Savour these twelve seconds, because I'm not gonna repeat myself."

Andross smiled thinly. "The floor is yours."

"Every year," said Nick, "I vote. My mom raised me to do it. And I'm enough of a momma's boy I kept it up, even through my lowest, most apathetic years. Because every year, I look at the ballot and can't help but notice that every candidate is terrible. In different ways, and for different reasons. Varies from light-hearted relatable stuff like tax evasion to, y'know, naked, vicious hatred of poor mammals and/or gay mammals and/or, random example, foxes. There's no option that's, like, _good_."

"I am waiting," said Andross, "for some kind of rebuttal."

"Every year," said Nick, "I sigh, work out which idiot is the least terrible, and pass one, solitary, insignificant vote for them. In the hope - however slim! - that if they succeed, the other politicians will look at the voter data and think 'Hmm, perhaps next year we could expand our policies into this Not Being Terrible thing'." He shrugged. "It's frustrating. And it seems to be getting worse instead of better."

"Again, a rebuttal…?"

"But some of us were already working to fix it. Boring, unglamourous work, which I'm sure you and your fancy robots are too good for. Look, bud. I'm no fan of late-stage capitalism either - even though, sidebar, I'm extremely good at it. The system _has_ failed foxes. We _do_ need something better, and we're building it slowly, every day. Only the truly desperate or the truly stupid think that the clowns on the ballot paper will ever do all the work."

By now, Nick had graduated to a glare.

"Because all those terrible politicians have one thing in common. They insisted they could improve my life if I trusted them. Despite, y'know…"

He indicated the drone, the looming owl, the armed and disgruntled cyborg guarding him.

"…all evidence to the contrary."

Andross glared. "I assure you, I am not like other politicians."

"Exactly the talking point Toriel Dreemurr built her campaign around last year."

"I am a league above what has come before-"

"Leodore Lionheart, first campaign."

"-and when I have the unity of the populace behind me-"

"Oh, Dawn Bellwether _loved_ 'unity', used it like every week."

He fumed. "-I will reconstitute society from the ground up, in a perfect system no other mind could possibly devise!"

"Gompers Bufufftlefumpter," said Nick, "gubernatorial election nineteen years ago, during his brief and more-unsuccessful-than-usual supervillain phase. Andy, I can do this all day! The only thing that's different about you is the robots, and you've totally ruined the first impression. Endangering civilians is the worst thing you can do."

Andross bared his pointed teeth. "You are infuriating, Wilde."

"I have that effect." Nick felt Wolf's hand tense on his shoulder, seconding the sentiment.

Andross caught himself. He took a deep breath, smoothed back his fur, and spoke. "You are not the first naysayer. Nor will you be the last."

"I'll bet. I can guarantee there's a naysayer or two tracking me down right now, eager to nay your says into next week."

"Yes… Officer Hopps would be on her way, wouldn't she? Unless she has prioritised Zootopia's welfare over yours." He tapped his fingers thoughtfully. "Her beloved city, or her beloved partner. A dilemma, I'm sure."

"She's good at multitasking. And she kinda holds a grudge." Nick stayed solid. "Could be tomorrow, could be ten years from now. But she's gonna catch up to you. Believe me."

"I do."

Andross' fingers kept tapping. After a moment, he came to a decision.

"I have come to a decision," he announced. "I would like to stress, Officer Wilde, that this has been nothing more than an unfortunate error."

" _You're_ an-"

"That being _said,_ " he continued, having evidently decided that their dialogue was no longer productive, "it is evident that our dialogue is no longer productive. And I'm sure you appreciate that I am not in a position to release you. You are a resourceful fellow, and my plans have only just come into motion. So we will detain you for the time being, right here."

"Of course." Nick glanced around. "So are you like in another room, or…?"

Andross laughed. "My god, no! Forgive the semantic inaccuracy. I am not on the premises. My faithful pilot and armed mercenary Mister O'Donnell will be guarding you. Right _there_."

Wolf's eye narrowed. "You sure we don't wanna slit his throat? We all know Hopps is coming."

"That sounds like an excellent reason _not_ to harm him. I hesitate to antagonise that rabbit more than I have to…" Andross regarded him coolly. "She - and perhaps others - will come, intent on a rescue, and that hope will only be dashed at the last possible moment when you succeed in trapping them here as well. Unless you don't believe yourself up to the task?"

"I'm through losing to those children." Wolf's cybernetic eye glowed. "Things are different now."

"That they are…"

Nick filed that away as well - he had a sinking feeling there was more at play here than a new eyepatch. But there was little he could do about that now. "And then what?" he said. "You just gonna keep me and Hopps in a jar? There's no twelve-step argument you can bust out that'll make her trust you. You know that, right?"

"That has become apparent, if she's even a fraction as intractable as you." Despite his words, Andross' smile had returned. Victorious. "But I am a merciful man, Nicholas, and you and your beloved partner will be given ample opportunity to discard your emotionally-charged biases and accept my logic. After all, I have all the time in the _world_."

Without another word, the screen cut to black.

Wolf grabbed him by the arm. "Alright, you heard the monkey. I guess we're holding onto you." He bared his teeth. "For now."

"I'm glad to know we're both happy about this."

"Get going!"

They got going. Wolf dragged Nick out of the hangar. Nick couldn't work out how or why, but his grip definitely felt stronger.

"Guess the best place to put ya is the spare munitions bunker… nothing in there at the moment, and the locks should be decent."

Nick glanced around, quietly sizing up the aerodrome. Squat gray bunkers in a sad gray grid. "Not giving me the guest quarters?"

"Not after you told off the host like that."

"Please. I get the impression you don't buy his 'facts and logic' schtick either."

"He's got money," said Wolf simply.

"Don't they all…"

Wolf was bringing him to a bunker near the centre. Difficult to slip away from. Nick began working on the problem, having already solved a few riddles in the background.

"Hey, cap'n. Can I ask you a question?"

"No."

"Was it hard getting Penelope Earhart here?"

Wolf stopped short. He turned, slowly, and glared down at Nick.

That shining blue eye was kind of unnerving.

"How did you piece that one together, pup?"

"I mean," said Nick, "I hear the metal owl thing took _somebody_ out of the prison, and I'm guessing it wasn't Scar. And back there, when you were yelling at your own boss about how stupid his robots and by extension all his ideas are, you said something about satisfying 'the mouse'."

Wolf pulled him forwards again. His only reply was a grunt.

"Just take it from me, as someone whose life Penelope tried to meticulously disassemble like a clock - I don't think she's Employee of the Month material."

"You don't get to talk."

Wolf reached the bunker, and the keypad at its door. Blocking Nick's view, he hammered in a long code. The thick steel door swung open, revealing nothing but empty concrete.

"And lucky for us," he said, "this should be soundproof." He shoved Nick inside. "I'll be back later with some food. If I remember. Probably won't."

"Just - sorry. Real quick." Nick met his gaze. "Could you pass on a message to Penelope? Please?"

Wolf glared. "What?"

Nick said nothing. He merely moved his lips back, slowly, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth. And he bit the air.

His captor was unimpressed. "Whatever, weirdo."

He slammed the door. And Nick was trapped.

Alone in the dark, imprisoned behind enemy lines, Nick did the only thing he could.

He sat. He produced a pen, then his journal. And he wrote.

"Dear diary; today, I was kidnapped. The worst part is that it was an accident and they didn't even want me." He frowned. "Their loss. I'm an amazing, valuable hostage. And I _recognize_ that."


	8. Take A Knee, or Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 14:31

* * *

Murray drove carefully. Carmelita set a brisk pace on her motorcycle, but he was calm and deliberate as he followed her. For one thing, the roads were steadily worsening the further they got from Zootopia, well-kept highways giving way to winding mountain paths. But there was also the matter of the experimental medical procedure taking place in the back.

Didn't want to jostle anyone's hands.

Bentley fixed Fox with a look. "And you're _sure_ about this? It would be much safer for you to stay in a hospital…"

Fox nodded. "I'm certain! I can't stay behind. Not now."

"Alright. But if this only makes your injuries worse, don't say I didn't warn you."

Fox had been oddly unembarrassed about hanging out in a criminal gang's van while not wearing pants. Sly found a lot of things about Fox to be odd. But he was warming up to him.

Bentley was clicking together a series of thin metal components, assembling a contraption that covered each of Fox's legs.

Sly remembered the device. He had never expected to see it again.

The Cooper Gang had weathered some dark times - some very recently. But nothing could match the depression that had set in after their narrow victory over Neyla. Sly got off the lightest, but walked away knowing better than ever before that his lifestyle of adventuring had an expiration date. Murray was so traumatised he had left the Gang, wandering the earth in search of spiritual healing. And Bentley…

Bentley was used to his wheelchair by now.

But that hadn't always been the case. In those first few weeks, cooped up in a hospital, away from the stabilising influence of his brothers, Bentley worked. He had worked this new and terrible problem like an engineer, trying to apply his mind, trying to _solve_ it.

By the time Sly took Bentley home, that phase was mercifully over. Upon connecting with disabled communities online, Bentley realized his technological expertise could still be put to use, without denying his new reality. That attitude had created Bentley's custom wheelchair, the magnum opus of his engineering career. He was happy now.

But before the wheelchair, there was this nameless device.

Sly was impressed at how quickly Bentley had cobbled together a design that was mostly forgotten, partly embarrassing. Once the wheelchair was in place, Sly had tried to tactfully suggest this thing hadn't been the best idea. Bentley had bluntly replied that it was, in fact, a very stupid idea.

Stupid or not, Fox had wanted it, and Bentley made quick work of reassembling it out of junk they had on hand. This version was even contoured to better fit Fox's vulpine legs. But Sly expected nothing less.

"Okay, first question," said Bentley. "Does that all fit under your trousers?"

Sly passed Fox's combats over to him, and he pulled them back on. The fabric looked unnatural in places, but it fit fine. "Yes!"

"Great. Time for the real test. Don't strain yourself-!"

But Fox was already moving. With one hand on the Van's wall, he planted his feet. Then, he slowly unfurled his legs.

And stood.

Sly watched him, ready to leap in and catch him at the first sign of trouble. But he soon got used to the gentle wobble of the Van. His feet stayed steady, and he grinned.

Then he kicked.

It was an impressive motion, high and strong, catching Sly and Bentley by surprise. Fox tried a few more, and there was a subtle _whirr_ each time. The device had given him more than motility. It was operating even better than expected.

" **Hey!** " yelled Murray from the driver's seat. "If you dent this van, you're gonna need two more of those things for your arms!"

"Okay!" He turned his grin to Bentley and Sly. "This is working great! I'll have no problem joining the fight now."

"Coming along is one thing," said Sly, "but we don't expect you to take part in any fights. Believe me, we can handle ourselves."

"So can I! I'm famously adept at hand-to-hand combat!"

"…Of course you are."

"Sly's right. Don't overtax yourself," said Bentley. "I never tested this thing on myself, let alone anybody else. And remember, it doesn't fix the underlying problem! If it breaks, you'll be exactly as vulnerable as you were after the crash."

"Don't worry, I'll be careful. Thank you!" He grinned brightly, a shining row of teeth.

Sly smiled quietly to himself. Yeah. Whatever this guy's quirks, he was pretty cute.

"Hey, guys?" came Murray's voice. "I think we're here. I mean, I dunno where 'here' is - we're just sorta in the middle of a forest - but Carmelita's stopping."

Murray parked the Van, then turned in his seat.

"Yeah, I think she wants to talk to you guys?"

"Cool." Sly gathered his things. "Can't wait to hear what she wants me to do…"

As he moved for the Van's back door, he caught the look Bentley was giving him.

"That sounded sarcastic, didn't it?" said Sly. "It wasn't. I'm legitimately very excited for this."

* * *

"Okay, listen up," said Carmelita.

They listened.

"Sly and Bentley have just returned with some recon photos." As she passed them out, Sly shot her a smile. She returned it. Briefly. "We can't get too close without triggering a perimeter alarm, but they're pretty conclusive. This location is definitely where Nick's being held. We're dealing with an old airbase. Abandoned, but functional."

"That's not uncommon," said Fox. If he was uncomfortable kneeling with everyone else in the huddle, he didn't show it. "We aren't that far from a major city. There was a push to relocate all military activity away from civilian populations after new regulations came in."

"Good," said Judy flatly. "Zootopia's busy enough already without fighter jets overhead."

"Hopps." Carmelita's voice was crisp. "We may be crouched in a forest, but I consider this an official Interpol briefing. No unnecessary comments."

She nodded firmly. "Right! Sorry. Understood."

"I'm digging this schoolteacher vibe you've got going on," purred Sly. "In fact, I'm kinda-"

Carmelita turned her gaze on him.

"Right," he squeaked. "No unnecessary comments. Got it."

"As I was _saying_ … The recon photos are clear. The base has a symmetrical layout; two hangars, one to the north and one to the south, with twenty bunkers built in a grid in between. As you can see, the bunkers are all heavily secured, and look almost identical. We can safely rule out the hangars, since Sly was able to see directly into them, but Nick could be held in any of the other buildings. To find him, we'll need more information."

Her eyes stayed on Sly.

"You're our best agent for moving quietly through dangerous territory. Once we're inside, I want you to break off and locate Nick however you can. Once you find him, you tell the rest of us immediately. Can you do that?"

He met her gaze with a smirk and nodded.

"Good. The rest of us will be directly facing the on-site security. That way, we'll provide a diversion for Sly, while also thinning out the resistance we'll face as we extract Nick. Understood?"

Everyone else nodded. It was in unison. More or less.

"Alright. As mentioned, we can expect alarms along the perimeter. So when we move, we move fast. We'll only get one shot at this."

She pointed a thumb over her shoulder.

"We have two vehicles; my motorcycle, and the Van. Both of which are capable of very high speeds, as I can personally attest. I suggest we make use of both, entering and exiting at different angles. Tactically, it makes sense."

"I'm ready to drive, Carmelita, just say the word!" said Murray. Then he frowned. "Wait, sorry. Unnecessary comment."

"You're fine, Murray. I need to hear you're up to the task. In fact, that goes for all of you." She cast her eyes around. "I can't get through to Interpol. I can't even call the local sheriff. We're cut off, with no-one to rely on but each other. Our friend is down there, captured by a dangerous force we don't understand. Anything less than our best could get us all killed."

"Gee, that's…" Sly got two words into his unnecessary comment before Carmelita's eyes struck down his sarcasm. "…achievable. Very achievable."

"Glad to hear it," she drawled. "I know the Gang has pulled off at least one rescue mission. Are there others I don't know about?"

The three shared a look before Bentley answered. "Jing King was the only real incident. However, we found the majority of our skills were… _transferable_. We stand ready to do it again."

"Good," she muttered. "If only you always made yourselves so useful."

"Inspector Fox, I found that comment to be unnecessary."

"Cooper, I will trade you for Wilde in a heartbeat. Don't test me."

* * *

Carmelita let out a breath.

The plan was laid out. They had listened. And now they were preparing, ensuring everything would be ready. They only had one chance of extracting Nick safely.

Calm before the storm.

With her briefing finished, she had drifted away. Not deliberately. She was ready to answer questions, to allay fears. But everyone soon found something to do. And she contented herself to looking over her pistol. Alone.

She tried to focus on the task. The comforting familiarity of her weapon. She had a bad feeling about what kinds of thoughts might start to seep in the longer she went without anyone-

"Hey."

She didn't look up. But he no doubt noticed the way her ear instantly perked. Embarrassing.

"Nice speech back there."

Smooth as ever. Voice low, eyes gleaming. Carmelita didn't return his gaze. "If you say so."

"I do," said Sly, and she could tell he meant it. "I'm always overjoyed to work alongside you. You know that."

That got her. Unable to suppress a smile, she glanced over to him, eyes warmer. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He gladly returned her expression, but as much as he wanted to savour it… "Especially right now. This is pretty serious."

"Yes. It is."

They lapsed into silence. Some distance away, Fox was tottering around, as Bentley continued outlining the limits of the device and Judy adjusted herself to watching a mammal she had just seen in a hospital bed walk unassisted.

"So," said Sly. "You know our new pal? You seem familiar with him."

"Yes. We crossed paths once or twice - nothing dramatic. At least until now," she added. "It's good to meet successful members of your own species. It can feel… I think 'relieving' is the word. Things aren't easy for foxes. But he knew I was an Interpol agent, and I knew he was a combat pilot, and that provided us both with some comfort, I suppose."

"I think I get it," he said. "Nick certainly seems a happier guy after meeting you."

Carmelita just smiled at that.

Sly followed up with a dramatic sigh. "And here I am, fulfilling every raccoon stereotype there is… Really, it's my worst crime."

"No, your crimes are your worst crimes." She smirked at him, no venom in her words. "And you better not be a bad influence on that nice young lieutenant, you hear me?"

"No promises."

Carmelita always enjoyed these moments - and she had to savour them, rare as they were. When they were alone, without the pressure of their professional roles, her deep bond with Sly became obvious.

But bonds aren't just held gazes and casual jokes. And now that she was talking to him alone, Carmelita could sense it more than ever. Something subtle and undefined, but which couldn't escape her years of observing Sly Cooper.

Tension.

She didn't know whether the humour left his voice because he chose to change the subject, or if he picked up how she was looking at him. "Did you hear about his parents?"

"McCloud's? No."

"We chatted a bit on the way out here, as Bentley worked on his legs. The guy has a real habit of just smiling and telling you the most horrifying things…"

Carmelita knew she wouldn't like where this was going. She said nothing, watching him.

"Did you know his dad was something of a war hero too? Imagine that. Doing what his son is now, but like, thirty years ago. How's that for a successful fox?"

"History is always more diverse than it's made out to be," said Carmelita.

"It is. The real tragedy, though, is that James McCloud was a little _too_ successful. So successful, international terrorist Andrew Ross targeted his home. Tampered with his car as an assassination attempt. Didn't get James, though." Sly's voice was dark. "His wife took the car instead."

"That's…" Carmelita glanced to Fox, who was laughing at something Murray had said. "I had no idea."

"Moot point, since Ross caught up to James a few months later anyway. Making it two for two." Sly's usual spark of humour was completely gone. Instead, his eyes seemed almost glassy. "Can you believe that? Both parents killed. Fox's mom wasn't even _involved_. All she did was marry the guy."

"That's terrible."

"I'll tell you what it is," said Sly. Voice quiet. Empty. "It's preventable."

How many times had Carmelita read Sly Cooper's file? How many times had she slowly reread the details on the night his home was attacked? Compared her age to his, imagined it all playing out in her own childhood home, her own parents, her own life being-

How many times had she shoved her empathy into a desk drawer and told herself to stay focused?

She met his gaze, refusing to bend. "You can lie to yourself, Sly, but not to me. You aren't trying to protect any hypothetical families. Just avenge your own."

"Is that so wrong?"

"I don't like seeing you like this. And I don't need you getting distracted by trying to settle an old score."

He laughed. It was completely hollow. "Oh, but that's the thing, Carmelita! Apparently we _haven't_ settled this score!"

There was no glaring him into submission now. He met her gaze, matching the steel in her eyes.

"We stopped Clockwerk. You, me, Bentley and Murray. We pulled off what nobody else - none of my ancestors - ever managed to do. We ended it."

"We did."

"Except," he said, "we didn't. Two years later, the Klaww Gang happened. _Neyla_ happened. I had taken down Clockwerk, but we left enough pieces for people to put back together. So we really gritted our teeth and finally managed to destroy those pieces. We ended it."

"Except…" said Carmelita, predicting his words, "we didn't."

"Obviously! All these years - so many new problems, new people. I genuinely thought it was over." He glared. "But apparently I was naïve. Of course it's not over. Is this how it's always been? Did other Coopers convince themselves they had managed to end Clockwerk, before he swept back in from nowhere?!"

"Sly…" Carmelita winced. The pain in his voice was getting to her. "You know I'll protect you."

"Yeah. I do." He rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Thank you," he mumbled.

"Any time."

"But it's not that. Or it's not just that."

He folded his arms, defensive. His ears were low.

"I… I just want this to be over. I _need_ it to be over. I can't live with it hanging over me. We can handle this, I'm sure of it, but what about next time? What if-"

He glared hard at the ground, trying to hide under his hat.

"…What if the next time Clockwerk shows up, I have kids?"

"Oh, Sly…"

"It's… I can't get the thought out of my head. My parents were both smart people. They cared about my safety. And they weren't able to stop him." Carmelita hated hearing that smooth voice so pained, so raw. "The same thing could happen again."

"As long as I'm around, it won't."

Sly carefully returned his gaze to Carmelita. She tried to project even more of her Inspector Fox aura than usual. He needed it.

"I'm going to help you through this. We'll shut down this version of Clockwerk, and any and all future versions, until you're safe. I promise you that. And you know I always keep my word."

"Y…yeah." Sly seemed at a loss - but the spark had returned to his eyes. He smiled at her, not a knowing smirk, but a real smile, wide and innocent. "Thank you, Carmelita. So much."

"So stop acting like a baby and fall in."

Just like that, his smile died. "What…?"

"Right now," she said, "you are a talented but unpredictable asset. I need your skills in rescuing Nick and, from there, ending this threat. But if you put your little revenge quest ahead of the group-"

Sly was blinking, a lot. With every blink, his expression became less vulnerable and more defensive. "What happened to protecting me?"

"I'm always going to protect you, Sly. It's my job to protect the innocent, and punish the guilty - _fairly_." She glared. "We do this my way, or not at all. The people behind this will face due process. I'm not able - or willing - to grant the use of lethal force."

"We're doing a Code White!" he blurted out.

"You - what?"

"You heard me. Fox says he can pull a Code White for us." He sniffed. "And the Code White goes through the military and the military's whole thing is lethal force so I get to have my cake and murder it too, thanks."

"Sly-"

"Maybe it's a moot point anyway," he said darkly. "You're the whole reason I wanted one - the reason I wanted to change - but if you're only protecting me because it's your _job…_ "

Carmelita ran a hand down her face. But she wasn't angry.

She just felt tired.

"I'm sorry, Sly. I said the wrong thing." She paused. "Well, no. I stand by what I said."

"Good to know."

"No lethal force. Seriously. But… I meant to say…" Carmelita frowned. "Sly, I just-"

A sound cut through the forest, and they both whirled around - but it was just Murray and Judy, laughing very hard at something Fox had said. Bentley seemed unimpressed.

Carmelita sighed - she was on edge. "Listen, Sly. We'll talk more later. For now, can you just promise me you'll focus on Nick's safety?"

Silence.

"Sly, I'm-" She turned back.

Sly had vanished.

Carmelita glanced around, but it was clear he had disappeared. Their conversation was over.

She huffed a strand of hair out of her face. "Oh, that's just childish."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What are you doing, Snap?" you say. "What edgy nightmares have you wrought, Snap, writing it so that Andross murdered Fox McCloud's mom via car bomb?" you cry  
> NOT MY IDEA, DUDES  
> I am ADAPTING an ACTUAL THING from the Nintendo Power comics that ran in 1993. If anything I made it LESS edgy  
> Nintendo's signed off on some weird stuff huh?!
> 
> Also big shout-out to everyone who left a comment on this fic featuring the phrase 'robot legs'. I am happy to vindicate you on this day


	9. A Big Guy (For You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 14:47

* * *

"Let's go, people!"

Carmelita strode through their makeshift workspace, eyes sharp and voice firm.

"Every second we waste is another second Nick spends in there alone! **Move!** "

Murray was really digging her energy.

He double-checked the Van, ensuring everything was ready. It was. But it was wise to be sure, especially for something as important as a rescue mission.

He took a second to appreciate the flurry of activity as everyone prepared themselves - and noticed one person was still. Judy simply stood there, looking toward the base. Ears low.

Murray had grown to be a lot more than a getaway driver.

"Uh, hey." He came up behind her, moving slowly so he wouldn't startle her. "You doing okay?"

"Huh?" The effect was instant. As soon as Judy realized someone had seen her, she hardened. Her stance solidified. Her ears went up. "Of course! I'm ready! I'm always ready."

He glanced around. Everyone else was busy. "Listen," he said a little quieter. "I know you don't know me. But even though I don't know you, I know when someone doesn't know. Y'know?"

"…No."

"I'm gonna take another run at that." He put his hands together. "Are you worried about something? 'Cause it really looks like you're worried about something. And let me tell ya, you do not want to go into one of these things worried about something."

She sighed, and slowly, her ears dropped back down. "Yeah."

Judy met his gaze, those purple eyes looking up at him.

"It's Zootopia. This whole thing… it came to Zootopia first. I'm worried that the millions of innocent people in that city are in the middle of something horrible." She clenched a tiny first. "And I'm not there to protect them."

"I totally get it," he said. "Well, except - I've never had to protect _millions_ of people before? That's crazy. You're not the only one responsible for them, y'know?"

"Sure. I'm part of a bigger team. But I'm not with that team. I'm not doing my part. Instead, I'm here…"

"Because Nick needs you."

"Yes! Exactly!" she said. "There's no way I'd abandon him. But I don't want to turn my back on Zootopia either. And when that blockade came down, and trapped us outside…" She shook her head, hugging herself. "I just - I don't know. I really hope I made the right decision."

"If you want my advice," said Murray, "friends always come first. You could live in the best, fanciest, least-invaded-by-robots place in the world. But what's the point if you're not sharing it with friends? And if you're in the worst, grossest, _most_ -invaded-by-robots place, but you're with your friends, you can get through it just fine! Am I making sense?"

She smiled. "You are."

"Great! 'Cause that's not always a guarantee."

He glanced up, and for a moment his eyes lingered on Sly. Slightly apart from the group, looking over his equipment. More focused and tense than he usually was before a mission.

Murray's expression darkened - briefly. When he turned back to Judy, he stressed the positives. "Always look out for your friends. Make sure everybody gets home. That's what I'd say."

"Thanks." Her smile seemed much more stable. "I appreciate you checking in on me."

"Any time - it's one of my jobs." He returned her expression. "Let's just focus on saving Nick, okay? You can forget about Zootopia for a minute. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

* * *

Things were not going well for Clawhauser.

They weren't going well for anyone, really. His complete inability to contact Judy or Nick or Carmelita, or even determine where they were, was a problem. He was doing a very bad job on the hospital-bed promise he had made to Chief Bogo. But Clawhauser recognized that he had still got off relatively lightly, considering the fact he was not currently trapped in a sewer.

Deputy Chief Wuntch had tried to handle things. Clawhauser had done a bad job on that, too.

The city had now been blockaded (by robots? apparently?) and communications were still patchy at best. The solution to both appeared to be an email the department received from the Committee Of Natural Calamities. Allegedly, there was still a route in and out of the city via the sewers, and the Commission demanded as many police officers as possible investigate this.

Wuntch interpreted this instruction very literally.

True to form, she pulled out every organizational stop, and before long almost every cop in Zootopia was trudging together into the darkness. McHorn, Delgato, Higgins, Grizzoli, Jackson, Snarlov, Francine, Johnson… Clawhauser had seen them all pass by his desk, leaving just a skeleton crew of technical and administrative staff.

And him, of course.

He had been grappling with his mission to find Carmelita, so at first the email hadn't given him much pause. But when he glanced at it a second time, his fur stood on end.

Clawhauser knew that Mz. C. Briggs, who handled all communication from the Committee Of Natural Calamities - and he remembered this because it was a habit she had begun while filling the same role in the Bureau of Epidemiology, Pathology, and Infection Safety - would always sign off on emails personally, with the well-meaning but arguably unprofessional ' _Good luck out there!_ '.

This email _had no signoff at all_.

Clawhauser had rushed to Wuntch - who, as it happened, had opted not to lead the majority of the city's law enforcement into the sewers personally. She had been strangely dismissive of Clawhauser's urgent finding. In fact, she was halfway through ordering him back to his post when they were informed every single entrance to the Zootopia sewer system had simultaneously exploded.

Through the ensuing panic, news filtered in that injuries had been minimal. But they were completely sealed in. There wasn't a single opening that could fit anyone larger than an unusually tall fox. The three officers who could've escaped hadn't been there in the first place.

To Clawhauser's understanding, Wuntch had gone home, and was having a bit of a lie down. Possibly for the next eighteen months.

And now here he was, sitting at his usual place in Precinct One. Silence around him.

He sighed, setting his phone down. There was no point pretending he could still make any progress. He couldn't even handle something this simple. He had already failed.

"Knock knock!"

A jovial voice cut through the air, echoing hollowly in the empty lobby. Clawhauser didn't have the heart to look up. "I'm… I'm really sorry. I don't know if we can help anybody right now."

"Oh, don't sound so despondent…"

There were heavy footfalls, the _click_ of claws on concrete, as the mammal drew closer.

"I have every confidence you can supply what I need."

"That's very nice of you to say, sir, but I… um…?"

A shadow had fallen on Clawhauser, and had just kept falling, for a long time, until it covered him completely. He looked up.

Tai Lung grinned down at him.

It had been some time since the Nope Diamond incident, and Tai Lung's subsequent jailbreak, but there was no mistaking him. Those sharp golden eyes, those powerful shoulders giving him a much broader frame than most snow leopards, the practiced grace with which he carried himself. All that had changed in the intervening years was that he had acquired a big coat.

Hauntingly, he was still shirtless underneath it.

"Hello." His smile was bright. "To whom am I speaking?"

Clawhauser let out a mangled little squeak.

"Capital. Lovely to meet you. I," he said, as though this was not the most obvious and terrifying fact in all of history, "am Tai Lung, and I have recently returned to this city for business reasons. I'll be collaborating with the local police." His teeth gleamed. "Or what remains of them."

"Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbuhhh?" said Clawhauser.

"Yes, the sewer thing was my employer's idea. Between you and me, I was dubious it would work." He laughed. "But I suppose you people really are that stupid! It's true what they say; all cops are buffoons."

Clawhauser had expended too much effort on his last attempt to speak, and went quiet again.

"Not to worry. Law and order shall be preserved. We'll be phasing out the ZPD with an army of extremely deadly automatons, overseen by one extremely deadly individual." His grin grew even wider. "That would be me."

"Hff," said Clawhauser.

"I'm humbled to have your support."

Tai Lung's grin didn't waver.

"I'm moving up in the world, you know. Not so long ago, I had a very negative relationship with this city. Three officers in particular humiliated me. Broke me, after so many years of unchecked momentum, by dishonorably accepting help from a criminal wretch."

Clawhauser was of course familiar with that case, and aware that Tai Lung's description was inaccurate and completely omitted how his own gullibility had been the major, perhaps even only, cause of his defeat. Even if he had the capacity to speak, Clawhauser was not about to say any of this out loud.

"You almost certainly know them." The leopard's eyes glinted. "Carmelita Fox? Judy Hopps? Nick Wilde? If I understand correctly, they work in this very building…"

Clawhauser was suddenly quite glad that his friends were MIA. For their sake, not his. He would not at all be glad if and when Tai Lung asked him directly.

Things seemed to be barreling towards that. "It's actually one of the reasons I accepted this position. My employer has some extremely lofty ideas about world peace and new politics and readjusting society, but between you and me…" His smile had become much less jovial. "I just see the chance to settle old scores. The rabbit, the fox, the raccoon, the _other_ fox - I'll catch up soon enough. They say the best revenge is living well, but if breaking every bone in your foes' bodies is on the **table** …"

He let the silence hang for a moment, fangs out. Then his expression shifted.

"But there'll be time enough for that later. For now, I'm looking for someone else."

He clapped two huge paws together, the picture of a model customer.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Mayor Dreemurr is, would you?"

Clawhauser felt his throat close up.

"You see, that unpleasantness at City Hall… I'm informed there was something of a mix-up. I can't tell you the specifics, something about the building being less durable than available information suggested. Put simply, that was supposed to be a mere show of force. Instead, the ceiling caved in! Potentially deadly - and extremely embarrassing." He laughed lightly. "The first rule of martial arts is to know your own strength! That's not a mistake I'd ever make."

He slammed both hands on Clawhauser's desk. Claws out. Leaning down.

"That," he added, "and I don't consider my enemies dying to be a mistake."

Clawhauser leaned back as far as he could, and would have scooted his chair away as well had he not been too terrified to move.

"But my employer considers himself civilised, and very badly wants to meet the mayor. Partly to apologise, but mostly because… well, she's in charge here, no? So when she formally signs control of the city over to him, the whole thing will be at least _semi_ -official. In his eyes, if nothing else." He beamed. "So it's a good thing I hear she's still here, eh?"

"Hoooooooooooooooooosay?" said Clawhauser, in a heroic effort to weave a deception.

"Oh, we have our sources," said Tai Lung, somehow interpreting the panicked honking correctly. "We know she's within the city. We just need to know where."

He stood there. Powerful muscles coiled. Deadly.

"So?"

Clawhauser said nothing.

But it wasn't out of fear. It was the opposite. He had already failed. He had already lost Carmelita and Nick and Judy, and he had already let Wuntch take the lead. Everything was ruined.

But that was no excuse. Here was one final chance to make the right choice. So, although his lips were trembling, he managed to keep them sealed.

"…Oh?"

Lightning-fast, Tai Lung's hands came for him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. Clawhauser was hefted out of his seat, inches from the leopard's face.

"It seems to me," he growled, "you actually know."

Clawhauser was close enough to smell his breath. See every gleaming fang.

"If you didn't know, you wouldn't be trying so hard to not say something." Tai Lung's eyes flashed, two points of golden rage. "I will give you one chance, little man. Either you tell me _immediately_ , or I am going to…"

The threat trailed off. Tai Lung had noticed something, and looked down. Clawhauser followed his gaze.

There was a wolf beside Tai Lung's foot. Crouched on his hands and hindquarters, ears low. Frowning.

Tai Lung raised an eyebrow. "What's this?"

Wolford let out a little sigh. "Undignified."

With silent power, Fangmeyer pounced.

In a classic tag-team move, Fangmeyer's attack shoved Tai Lung into Wolford, tripping him. Clawhauser fell to the floor, gasping.

Fangmeyer grabbed one hand, Wolford rose and took the other. And together they ran.

"Max! Sasha!" Clawhauser's eyes shone. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Feeling's mutual," said Fangmeyer, "but don't slow down."

They had only bought seconds. With a yell - a laugh? - Tai Lung flipped to his feet, sprinting for them. Claws first.

Wolford pulled out his shock pistol and fired a salvo without slowing. Tai Lung barked out another laugh.

"Pathetic!" He dodged past the bolts, eyes reflecting the electricity, as he drew ever closer. "Your most legendary officers couldn't best me in combat! What hope have _you?"_

"Do you not see us running?!"

The leopard lunged, covering the gap and overshooting and whipping around, his claws shrieking against the floor as he slid to a stop. "Hello."

Fangmeyer yelled and went to punch him. Tai Lung slipped past the incoming fist and grabbed the incoming wrist and with a sudden motion he pulled Fangmeyer, _all_ of Fangmeyer, out of Clawhauser's grip and into the wall behind him.

"Oh," said Clawhauser.

Wolford snarled, furious, and shot Tai Lung right in the face. This finally got a reaction. Tai Lung snarled right back, and with a sudden motion he whipped the pistol out of Wolford's hand. He crushed it.

Wolford hissed through his teeth, ears back. "Man," he said, "I was really hoping I'd never have to fight you again."

"'Again'?"

Tai Lung loomed over them. He dropped the broken pistol with a grin.

"I'm sorry… I don't remember any of you."

He reached out with one powerful hand and grabbed Wolford by the neck, lifting him off the ground.

"For you, the day the great Tai Lung graced your city was the most important day of your life." His eyes gleamed. "But for me? …It was Tuesday."

"It," choked Wolford, "was a Monday."

"You're just proving my point, really."

Fangmeyer leapt in with a roar. One arm wrapped around Tai Lung's neck in an attempted chokehold, while the other came down on his head. Again and again, Fangmeyer brought down a fist like a hammer.

Tai Lung grunted. Then chuckled.

He flipped back, slamming Fangmeyer into the ground and smoothly rolling free. He cut off the ensuing defiant growl with a sharp kick.

"Not bad, tiger! You have some real power."

Without warning, he grabbed Wolford from where he had fallen.

"But your partner seems awfully skittish for a wolf. Weak. _Frail._ "

Easily, without effort, he raised Wolford up with both hands. They all stared as he held him in place. And slowly, with an experienced confidence, he brought one knee out. At the ready.

"It will only take one strike," he purred, "to snap him in half."

Fangmeyer's eyes widened, wild and desperate. "Max! **No!** "

"Sasha!" Wolford stared down, helpless. "I - I…!"

The image froze in Clawhauser's vision. One strike, one second, that would permanently end Wolford's career - at _best_. There was no guarantee that Tai Lung would let any of them go with mere broken bones. He was deadly. And Wolford and Fangmeyer had thrown themselves at him without hesitation.

Clawhauser saw only one way forward.

His voice came out high enough to shatter glass. " _She's upstairs!_ "

Tai Lung looked up. Instantly, he dropped Wolford onto Fangmeyer, sauntering towards Clawhauser. "Come again?"

"Upstairs," warbled Clawhauser, "in - in the closet like way _way_ back at the end of the third floor, just, _please_ , don't hurt my friends!"

"Well, now. Was that so hard?" Grinning horrendously, he pinched one of Clawhauser's cheeks - hard enough to hurt. Then, mostly to demonstrate he could, he leapt to the wall and, from there, to the open walkways on the first floor.

The partners stood - Fangmeyer setting Wolford down with a motion that looked very, very much like a relieved hug - but then they turned to Clawhauser. Gratitude fought with something else on their faces. Failure. Fear.

"Ben, I…" Fangmeyer's green eyes seemed dark. "What have you done?"

"Lied to a scary murderer, that's what!"

Clawhauser grabbed them both by the hand and started pulling them toward the garage.

"C'mon c'mon c'mon we do not have a lot of time!"

"Wait, what?" said Wolford. "You really-?!"

"Yeah! I really! We couldn't pull off a Judy solution so I came up with a Nick solution!"

Fangmeyer laughed. "Benji! That's awesome!"

"It's not gonna seem awesome when he-"

A roar of rage rang distantly through the building.

"Sasha?" huffed Clawhauser. "If we all get into a car could you please drive it very _very_ fast?!"

Fangmeyer's grin was unstoppable. "My pleasure."

In moments, they were piling into a cruiser - they had their pick of the department's best, now that the garage was as deserted as anywhere else. Fangmeyer took the wheel and tore out onto the street.

Clawhauser watched from the back seat as the headquarters drifted away - and a distinct figure calmly exited its main door, coat billowing in the wind. There was no urgency in how Tai Lung moved. Instead, Clawhauser saw a worrying calm in his golden eyes.

It didn't matter how quickly they ran. He would always be faster.

Wolford's voice broke through his thoughts. "Where are we going?"

"Oh, I'm just building up distance to start," said Fangmeyer. "Benji? What's the plan?"

"I, uh…" He sank into the seat. "I don't know. I don't have one."

Fangmeyer's smile didn't dent. "Good. Wouldn't want it to be too easy, would we?"

"I'm not kidding! I…" Clawhauser sighed bitterly. "I can't find Inspector Fox. Or Nick and Judy! They're just gone."

"That's a bad sign," noted Wolford. "I mean, if you can't find them, no-one can."

Clawhauser sniffed. "You think…?"

"Sure. You're the department's best when it comes to wrangling people."

"Oh," he said. "Thanks."

"If it were up to you, for instance," growled Fangmeyer, "I don't think literally every officer would have been told to walk single-file into an obvious trap."

"Uh, yeah." Clawhauser blinked. "But… why aren't _you_ guys in the sewer?"

"We," said Wolford, "were on a union-sanctioned break. At the time."

"What we were or were not doing on that break is unimportant," added Fangmeyer quickly.

"Yes."

"The important thing is: we're here, and we're ready to help the ZPD."

Clawhauser's eyes were low. "We _are_ the ZPD…"

He lapsed into silence for a moment. But he didn't stay there. He had to keep working this.

"You're still Carmelita's liaisons. When did you see her last?"

Both partners grimaced. Wolford just coughed.

"Since you mention it," said Fangmeyer slowly, "the last time we saw her was a few hours ago, at the prison. When we yelled at her."

"Woah, hey," protested Wolford. " _You_ yelled at her. I'm way too cowardly to ever do something like that."

"Awh, you're just more tactful, that's all." A huge paw left the steering wheel to settle briefly on his head. "But yeah," said Fangmeyer, more sombrely. "She asked us to do something weird. Tensions were high. And…"

"It happens," said Clawhauser quietly. "Don't worry. You guys are good cops."

"Nnnnnot really, no," growled Fangmeyer. "The _next_ weird order we got, we squirmed out of following. Inspector Fox is amazing, and I blew her off to come back here. And _this_ is how things go?"

"I don't feel bad about ignoring the terrible sewer plan," murmured Wolford. "But considering we had just made such a point about sticking with the ZPD… I feel like a hypocrite."

They both sunk into a sullen silence. Clawhauser had rarely seen them so defeated. He knew the feeling well.

Wrangling people. He was good at wrangling people. Wolford and Fangmeyer thought so, at least. There were only three of them. But they all had skills.

"Guys," he said. "You gotta stay focused. I mean, like - I was meant to stop the sewer plan from happening in the first place. So if we're comparing who's failing the worst, I'm winning!"

He leaned forward, hoping he sounded appropriately inspiring. He really had no idea.

"But we have to keep trying. I don't know if you heard, but Tai Lung wants Mayor Dreemurr. And I know where she is."

"Say no more, Benji." Fangmeyer took a sharp turn with flawless - and terrifying - speed. "You're right. And we're both ready to help."

"I think I have an idea to get older radios around this communications blackout," said Wolford. "Is it alright if we go to my place first? I've got a few units we could pick up, get a network going."

"Yeah. Okay. Good!"

Clawhauser took a breath. They were alone out here. But they were alone together.

"Let's do our best."


	10. Insecurity System

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 14:49

* * *

"What the heck are you wearing?"

These were the words that jolted Penelope out of her thoughts. She was still getting used to having Wolf around.

Andross she could deal with. He was boring and self-important and - this was the important thing - far away. She had skills he needed, which gave her space to breathe. And to backtalk him.

But Wolf was a very different animal. A mercenary, and a mercurial one at that. She remembered his profile. He loved money, but he valued other things too. Autonomy. Revenge.

Not being lied to.

He hadn't acknowledged that Penelope had been ordering him around during the Phantasm incident. Using him as a tool against Cooper and Hopps and Wilde, and leaving him for dead on a ship rigged with explosives. But Penelope didn't find this silence comforting. Thanks to the absurdly public fallout of that case, everyone knew it was her. He should have, too.

So he had become a shadow. Penelope was just waiting for the moment the hammer would fall, where Wolf would calculate his loyalty to Andross against his need for vengeance and swoop down on her. But until that moment came, she had to stay calm. And weather his annoying questions.

She adjusted a strand of her blonde hair. "What? This is how I dress."

"God. Is it?"

The orange prison jumpsuit was gone. While shipping in equipment, Penelope had been sure to include a fresh outfit. Her red bandana was reinstated, sitting under a pair of goggles outfitted with multiple overlapping lenses. She still wore blue and yellow, but rather than her classic overalls, she had chosen jeans and a button-down shirt. With a ruffled cravat.

"You look ridiculous."

"You're one to talk."

Wolf's eye narrowed.

He was going to try to kill her. She was sure of that. But until then, she had to act natural, and that involved mean comments. Bullying a dangerous mammal exponentially larger than herself might not adhere to common sense. But Penelope was far smarter than common sense.

"Is this important?" she continued. "I'm still getting acquainted with Andross' systems, and the notes he recovered from Clockwerk, not to mention everything I've missed while-"

"Relax," drawled Wolf, as he stepped closer to her, meaning she very much did not relax. But he sauntered towards the monitors across from her. "Didn't mean to bother ya. Just didn't expect you to set up in the security room."

"It's a good space for computer work."

His eye wandered to her tiny, tiny laptop. "…Uh huh."

"So, what? You were just checking the cameras?"

"Pretty much. I'm finally a pilot again, not some two-bit security guard. But I guess it's old habit. I like knowing the perimeter is secure. Especially now that we've got a prisoner."

Penelope might have muttered something to the effect of ' _You mean_ _ **another**_ _prisoner_ ', but her first payment was already in her account. It was sizeable enough that she was willing to look past her method of employment. For now.

Wolf shook his head idly. "I don't like it. It's a bad idea to hold him. Wilde's a slippery little-"

"Um," said Penelope forcefully, "excuse me? I thought you were supposed to have some pilot down there."

She saw his teeth clench. " _Supposed_ to."

"You've got Wilde instead?!"

"Yeah," he grunted.

"And we're not just gonna kill him?!"

"That's what I said! But Andross thinks he can turn him around. Or something."

"He can't," she said. "He's stubborn. They all are! And it's way too likely they'll ruin everything. The smart thing to do would be to slit his-"

"His throat, exactly!" said Wolf, his voice overlapping with hers. "That is word for word what I said to Andross! But does he listen to anyone but himself?"

"Ugh…"

"And the worst part is that Wilde's so _smug_. I don't know what happened since the last time I saw him, but his backtalk has gotten even worse. It's like he's not afraid at all." He glared. "Y'know what he told me to pass on to you?"

"What?"

Wolf said nothing. He merely moved his lips back, slowly, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth. And he bit the air.

"That **little-!"** Penelope's whiskers flared. "Oh, he thinks that's funny, huh?!"

"Do I want to know…?"

"He threatened to _eat_ me. Gave me the full savage predator treatment, then got off scot free. And he thinks he can just…!" Penelope went to stand. "That's it. I don't care what Andross wants, I'm gonna-!"

"Easy, now." Wolf's voice was a steady growl. "Don't blow all this on one moment of anger. Killing Wilde would cost you a lot of cash. And honestly? He'd find that pretty funny."

"Hrrm. You're right." She folded her arms. "We better not."

They lapsed into silence for a moment. Then, Penelope shot him a smile.

"Y'know…"

"What?"

Her voice was singsong. "We could make it look like an accident~."

"…You're pretty twisted, aren'tcha?"

Slowly - those fangs coming back out - Wolf matched her smirk.

"Maybe having you around won't be so bad after all."

Before she could reply, a sound cut through the air. Sharp and piercing.

Wolf squinted uncomfortably, scanning the computer. "He did not need to make it this _loud_ -"

"What's the alarm for?" Penelope had to strain her voice to be heard. "Has Wilde broken out?"

Wolf slammed a paw on a button, bringing merciful quiet. "Don't you worry about that-"

"I'm _not_ worried."

"-it's the opposite." He switched on a screen. "Perimeter breach."

A camera feed displayed a bulky, sky-blue van emblazoned with an angular logo, and Penelope immediately sagged. " _Ugggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggh_."

"Is that what I think it is?"

"I knew it," she muttered. "Seeing the bird again would spook 'em real bad, and they've got a track record of clinging to Wilde."

"So, what?" he said. "We've got Cooper _and_ Hopps to deal with?"

"She's probably with them, yep."

Wolf broke into a vicious smirk. "Perfect."

He suddenly seemed taller. Larger. He turned to her with steel in his eye.

"Do me a favour and prep the bird. I'm gonna face them on the ground, and once they're retreating, I'll finish off any stragglers from above."

"That's inefficient."

"Don't argue! I'm alone out here, so-"

"No," said Penelope, "you aren't."

"The drones don't count."

"They sure don't," she said, "but I'm here. Let me pilot the Clockwerk Jet."

The way his lip curled confusedly was not the reaction she was hoping for.

"Uh, _hello?_ " She glared up at him. "I'm an internationally famous pilot! Ever hear of the Black Baron? Host and undisputed champion of the ACES dog-fighting tournament? That's me! I'm literally world-renowned at piloting!"

She gestured roughly at the door with both hands.

"You go out there and bite them. I'll take the Jet and bomb them. We'll be done in minutes!"

Wolf watched her for a second, his expression stony.

He glanced at the monitors again, and she followed his gaze. Their enemies were almost there. No time to bicker.

When he spoke, his tone was sure, and left no room for argument. "That's the dumbest lie I've ever heard. Just prep the thing."

With that, he was gone.

Penelope stood there for a moment. Then she buried her face in her gloved hands and muffled a scream.

"Why does nobody believe the things that have happened to me?!"

* * *

Murray was back on solid ground.

Not literally. Literally, he was gunning his Van down a rocky slope toward an old military base full of unknown dangers and hostile robots. After months of skulking around Zootopia, endlessly moving from safehouse to safehouse, here was a fight. A problem he could tackle head-on. It felt good.

It seemed Judy agreed.

"I'm kinda excited!" She stood between them on the seat, hands on the dashboard, looking through the windscreen. Ears up. "Is that dumb?"

"Not at all," purred Sly. He was totally at ease, one elbow resting against the van door. "I mean, driving directly into a horde of angry robots programmed to tear us to pieces - who wouldn't find that fun?"

His tone was sarcastic, yet there was somehow a sincerity underneath. Murray allowed himself a little smile. They were all on the same page. In the front seat, at least.

"I'm glad you're all so confident," said Bentley from the back, "because we should be expecting resistance any-"

There was a shriek. Then another, and another, until the air was full of metallic screeching.

"Yeah," drawled Bentley. "There it is."

Drones began to pour out from the centre of the base. Murray only sped up. He wove between gaps in the incoming swarm, though once or twice he had just the right angle to tilt the Van straight into a drone and send it flying.

"You're up, Sly!" said Bentley as they reached the squat concrete buildings of the base. "Wilde's somewhere in here, but-"

"Relax. I'll find him."

Sly rolled down the window, letting wind and the furious robotic cacophony seep into the Van.

"See you soon!"

He calmly reached out a hand. A rusty signpost screamed past. And just like that, he vanished.

"Oh, wow…" Judy watched in the rear-view mirror as Sly detached from the pole and calmly made his way through the base, fast and low.

"Yeah," said Murray. "He does that."

They needed to keep the drones off Sly. Having reached the approximate middle of the base, Murray decided here was as good a place to stop as any.

He stopped the Van directly over a luckless drone.

And then he and Judy were exploding out of opposite doors, sharing a battlecry. Judy had given up on inflicting any real damage. Her speed was enough. Dancing and weaving between opponents, she interfered with their targeting and wasted their attacks, always dodging their claws.

Murray - thanks to a quick and dirty modification he and Bentley devised - could be a little more direct.

" **Huhh!** " His fist, wrapped in spiked metal and strategic padding, slammed directly into a drone's face. It dented. "I'm gonna teach you soulless automatons how to feel! First lesson is _fear_ , followed directly by _**pain!**_ "

Bentley gingerly stuck his head out the Van's backdoor. "I'm glad to see the gloves are working."

" **The Murray** is operating at maximum destrucity!"

"Now all we have to do is wait for-"

A salvo of green bolts cut through the air, thinning out the drones circling above them.

Carmelita's motorcycle sped in. She still wore her functional red helmet, but after the incident outside Zootopia, she insisted on borrowing another from the Cooper Gang. Her passenger was wearing a black helmet with two green lenses for the eyes. Despite her high speed his accuracy stayed impeccable.

Carmelita pulled to a stop next to Judy, who grinned. "Hi!"

"Breach successful." The instant Carmelita parked her bike, she was firing her own pistol. Judy noted it was a lot more effective at exploding robots than the ZPD models. "Is Sly clear?"

"He is!"

Carmelita turned to Bentley. "Then hurry up!"

"Uh, right!"

Bentley exited the Van as Murray hefted one last drone and slammed it into the concrete. It weakly tried to stand and Fox shot it twice.

"That won't be all of them," said Carmelita. She and Fox removed their helmets, leaving them on the motorcycle. "Judy, Murray, keep it up."

"Yes, ma'am!"

"We're a two-mammal wrecking crew!"

"Bentley, let's go," she continued. "We should keep mobile until we have a location."

"Right. Yes."

"Good luck!" Fox's smile was characteristically bright. Without another word, he and Carmelita moved. Quick, professional, pistols at the ready. Bentley wheeled between them.

Murray rolled his shoulders. "Ready for more?"

"You know it!" Judy bounced from foot to foot, eyes and ears alert. "We'll just hold this position, right?"

"I'm not gonna let anyone touch my Van. Or Carmelita's motorcycle - I mean, that's just polite."

" **Hey!** "

A voice rang out behind them, and they turned.

Wolf O'Donnell. Teeth bared, eye glowing.

Judy squared her stance. "Wolf."

"Hopps. And…" He waved a hand at Murray, dismissive. "Whatever your name was. Where's Cooper? Where's the crazy chick with the gun? Afraid to face me head-on, huh?"

"When I'm through with you, pal," said Murray, "you're gonna wish you got someone as _nice_ as Carmelita."

"Besides," smirked Judy, "we can do you one better. There's someone else here you should be more worried about."

"Is that a fact?"

"We hear you know each other well." Her expression became less playful. "Last time you spoke, you were radioing insults to his plane before you shot it down."

The effect was instant. Wolf's natural eye went wide, then began to burn intensely. "Fox?" he growled. "Fox is here?!"

"If you want him," roared Murray, "you gotta get through us!"

He charged. Murray brought all his power and momentum into one spiked fist, sending it careening for Wolf's chest. And Wolf just stood there, watching him. Both eyes cold.

Murray's fist connected. And nothing happened.

He stared. Wolf had rocked slightly on his feet, but otherwise, it was like punching a wall. If it wasn't for the makeshift gloves, the impact would have reverberated straight up his arm. More painful for him than Wolf.

In that moment of shock and hesitation - as Judy watched - Wolf grabbed Murray's arm and flung him.

Murray stumbled, thrown with far more force than he was expecting, and hit a nearby bunker with a grunt. Both he and Judy watched as Wolf slowly rolled his neck. His voice was a growl, tinged with something unnatural.

"You're going to _**regret**_ wasting my time."

* * *

Penelope watched from the monitors. She did intend to prep the Jet. But the early stages could be handled from here. She wasn't willing to give up her vantage point just yet.

As she watched Murray ineffectually try to grapple Wolf, she sighed. It was easy to remind herself of Sly's narcissism. Bentley's paranoia and constant overthinking.

But she hated to confront how much she missed the big lug.

She cycled through the footage, grounding herself. Things were going badly. Yes, Wolf's newfound strength could contain Murray and Hopps, but Carmelita and someone who was presumably Lieutenant Fox McCloud were escorting Bentley through the base. They didn't seem to know Wilde's location, but it wouldn't take them long. And worryingly, she couldn't see Sly at all, which-

Penelope froze. Flicking through the cameras, she had caught a glimpse of what had looked like a ringed tail disappearing into a vent. She examined the building, still unfamiliar with the base's layout, doing her best to place it.

Moments later, a grate in the ceiling came loose, and Sly lowered himself silently into the room.

He looked around - and visibly relaxed a little when he saw no-one. From her last-second hiding spot under the desk, Penelope let out a silent sigh. That had been too close.

He wandered up to the main console and began to prod at it. "C'mon… gotta be something here…"

Still inept with technology, she noted. But still an admittedly effective field agent. In moments, he had worked out how to cycle through the security cameras. When the screen displayed a flash of orange against grey, his ears perked.

"There's my handsome boy!" He put a finger to one ear. "Everybody, I've found him. Empty munitions bunker near the centre of the compound. Door looks heavy-duty, and I can't open it from here… You're up, Bentley."

Penelope's eyes narrowed. She had to somehow seize this chance. If she had a good weapon, she could pounce. Achieve in a quick, messy struggle what a months-long con with cutting-edge technology had failed to deliver. The death of Sly Cooper.

But she had nothing. And she felt this opportunity slipping past her as Sly kept his eyes on the screen. "Maybe I can let him know we're here… Oh, this might be it."

Penelope watched as Sly hammered the button labelled 'Call'.

Still inept with technology.

The screen went black, and then cut to Andross' office. "Miss Earhart? What can I-?"

Andross looked up from his papers, and stared. Sly stared. Penelope stared.

"What," said Andross, "is this?"

Sly gave him a big grin. Without denting that grin, or breaking eye contact, he tried pressing the same button. Nothing happened.

"Judging from your unauthorised access to my security system, as well as your frankly ridiculous outfit-"

"Woah, hey-!"

"-I can surmise you're none other than Sly Cooper." Andross' mouth curled. "Am I correct?"

"I am not validating anything you say," said Sly, "until you acknowledge the fact that only one of us has pinned a bunch of medals to a lab coat. That's _insane_."

"I'm taking that as a 'yes'."

Andross laid down his pen, and Penelope cast her eyes around. This was a golden opportunity to search for a weapon. These two idiots would be trapped in conversation for at least an hour.

"Mister Cooper, I of course foresaw your eventual interference…"

" _Liar!_ " thought Penelope. " _I had to explain that to you with small words!_ "

"But I must say, this is an impressively prompt appearance. It hasn't even been a full day. And last I checked, you were in prison."

"Yeah," said Sly. "I don't tend to let little details like that stop me. Not when my friends are in danger."

Penelope pinched her nose. " _Oh my god, you absolute himbo…_ "

Andross blinked, caught on the same problem. "Your friends? I've done nothing so personal, Cooper. I didn't realize you had ties to the air force… Unless you're referring to Officer Wilde?"

"Uh," said Sly.

"Because to my understanding, you considered him and his partner to be expendable pawns. It's all over the news."

"Um," said Sly. He rallied. "They're _my_ expendable pawns. No-one else is allowed to expend them."

"Mmh," said Andross. "I suppose that fits your psychological profile. You have a moral code you swear by, even if others find it incomprehensible." He grinned. "I can relate to that. The only difference, of course, is that my code is correct."

"Come down here and say that to my face. We'll see which one of us wins the debate."

"Ah, but in other ways you are a stereotypical criminal, papering over your intellectual inferiority with threats of violence. How blasé."

Andross' smile died.

"You know, Cooper, I'd say it isn't personal… but it is." He glared, sour and sharp. "I happened to be quite close friends with Moreau."

Sly stared blankly.

After a moment, Andross spluttered in rage. "I–! Maurice Moreau?! PhD?! A genius whose life your father _ruined_ and you yourself _ended?!_ "

Sly's stare only got blanker.

"I can't _believe_ the sheer arrogance of–!" Andross pinched the bridge of his nose. "…'Doctor M'?"

"Oh! Oh. Doctor M. Yes."

Sly's eyes sharpened. His usual tone had a darker undercurrent.

"I didn't 'end his life'. Dude chose to just stand there and shriek wildly as the cave collapsed. That was his own decision."

"And what drove him to such sad depths? I knew him as a young man – we met as students. A brilliant mind. One of the rare people who stood at my level." He glared. "And where did all of that potential end up? Burning itself out on some godforsaken island, caught up in a petty feud. Absolutely tragic."

"I don't care," said Sly.

Penelope paused her search, perking an ear. That time, she had definitely caught it. Something was different. This wasn't the Sly she remembered. The one she had stormed Kaine Island with.

"I gave him," he said, "every opportunity to let go. And he wouldn't. When you get in my way and don't back down, I _take_ you down. However I have to." He matched Andross' glare. Surpassed it. "Something you better realize quick."

"Typical," tutted Andross. "Even your grammar-"

" _Shut up._ "

Ears back. Voice sharp. Hazel eyes burning.

"You killed McCloud's parents. You resurrected the monster that killed my parents. And if you don't give up right now, I'm going to kill _you_."

"Please, Mister Cooper. You're an art thief, not a-"

"I don't _make,_ " Sly growled, "idle threats. I'm coming for you."

Andross laughed. But Penelope heard the wobble in it. "I-"

Sly's cane hit the screen.

A shower of sparks and broken glass exploded outward, and Sly was deliberately vicious in wrenching his cane back out, worsening the damage. He let out a breath through his teeth.

"Oh, I have _not_ smashed enough furniture lately." His voice was low. "That felt good."

Under the desk, Penelope decided to tactically withdraw.

And scurried off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note; because these next three chapters are connected, I've decided to post the next chapter on Tuesday, then continue next Saturday as normal. See you soon!


	11. A One-Eyed Cybernetic Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 14:59

* * *

"This," huffed Murray, "could be going better."

His powerful arms strained against Wolf's, the two of them caught in a stalemate - cut short when Wolf slammed his head into Murray's. The hippo stumbled and Wolf pressed the attack, tackling him in the chest. In an instant, Murray was on the concrete, Wolf's clawed hand on his throat.

"Yeah, see?" he choked. "That's not cool."

Judy ran in with a yell, slamming into Wolf's legs. When he didn't react, she climbed up his jacket and went straight for his face.

"You little-!" That got a reaction, but it was instinct more than anything else. Wolf abandoned Murray, reaching up to pry the angry rabbit off his muzzle. " **Off** , Hopps!"

"What's happening?!" Judy dodged his hand, deftly clambering around to the back of his head. "Why are you so much stronger?!"

"Heh." His smirk was vicious. "Surprising, right? Didn't think we could improve on perfection, but here we are."

Murray leapt up, copying Wolf by grabbing him by the throat. But he was much heavier than expected, which threw off Murray's attack. A sharp kick to the stomach broke the grapple. Murray sucked in a breath, blindly grabbing what he could.

Wolf thrashed, still trying to dislodge Judy. His jacket came off, exposing his arms.

Exposing what had happened to them.

Interlacing the grey fur and taut muscle was a web of icy blue lights, streaking through him like glowing veins. He savoured the look of horror Judy and Murray shared.

"Nice, right? Unique perk of the job. I don't intend on losing any more fights."

Judy stared. "Wolf, I-"

That moment of hesitation was enough. With a sudden motion, Wolf reached back and caught hold of her foot. She tried clinging to his black vest, but soon found herself dangling upside-down in front of his teeth.

"Hey, um-" She grinned shakily. "Y'know, we really could just talk about this instead-"

"Nice try, but I don't trust you as far as I can throw you." He fixed her with a sadistic grin. "Although…"

"Haha, good one! I can see where you're going with this and I'd just like to _wait Wolf_ _ **no-!**_ "

He grabbed her feet with both hands and with one hefty swing of his shoulders flung her straight up.

She saw it happen in slow motion. Murray, on one knee, watching her fly upwards with shock in his eyes. The base zooming out further and further, then hovering below her. A patchwork of grey blocks.

Then, rushing to meet her.

* * *

The others weren't far from their goal. They had gone the wrong direction before Sly's report came in, but the base wasn't large, and looping back around to the munitions bunker would take a few minutes at most. Carmelita made sure to keep them all out of sight.

Their plan wasn't brilliant, but it was all they had.

"Report, Bentley. Are there more drones inbound?"

"Yes," he said flatly. "They seem to come in waves. It won't stay quiet for long."

"Copy that. Stay vigilant, Fox."

"Sure," he said. "One second, though."

He calmly stepped slightly to the side, held his arms out, and caught a rabbit.

Carmelita and Bentley were startled, but they were much more collected than Judy. "Thank you!" Her fur was ruffled, her purple eyes wild. "That was - yep! Thanks! Great!"

"You're welcome!" Fox set her down. "How's the plan going?"

"It," she said, "could be better. Wolf reacted like you said he would, but, uh, I'm worried. He's stronger. Much, _much_ stronger. He did something to himself." She pointed upwards, lamely. "He… threw me? That's what that was. He threw me."

"Oh!" said Fox.

Carmelita's frown instantly deepened. Her usual expression of precise focus wobbled into something shakier. "That's… I don't like this. If we're dealing with that kind of change in the variables, then-" She stopped herself, realizing something. "Murray? Is he okay?"

"He wasn't doing great. I should really get back to him." Judy met her gaze. "Unless… you're rethinking the whole plan?"

Before Carmelita could reply, Bentley cut across her. "I know my tactical appraisals tend toward the pessimistic, but both of you seem to be forgetting: this is _Murray_ we're talking about. He'll be fine. And he wouldn't want us to abandon Nick just because things got a little dicier."

"You're right," said Carmelita. "We don't have the luxury of changing the plan. Get back to Wolf and just - be careful. Slow him down however you can, without endangering yourself."

"Got it!" Judy's eyes shone. "Trust me, Carmelita, we won't let you - **down!** "

They all caught it, the way her ears shot up and her eyes widened. In moments, they were set upon by yet another wave of drones.

As much as she hated feeling useless, Judy knew there was little she could do. She went low, arms up defensively, waiting for Carmelita or Fox to deal with the shrieking wall of metal that had suddenly turned the corner-

But just as suddenly, it disappeared. Into a fireball.

Judy turned slowly, her ears ringing from the thundering roar. Bentley sat calmly in his wheelchair. Preparing another bomb.

"Did I catch you off-guard, Officer?"

"I guess it's on me…" she said. "The plan just said you'd help with the robots, and I assumed you'd… hack their mainframe, or…?"

"It's understandable. I didn't rely on it during either of our previous interactions. Zootopia is much too densely populated. I'd be terrified of overlooking a mice dwelling or something."

The bomb, small and grey and almost innocuous, flicked on its green LEDs. Ready.

"But as well as the Gang's hacker and tactician," he said, "I have the proud role of the _demolitions expert._ "

Carmelita scanned the remains of the drones. One twitched, and she shot it. No more movement. "Good," she said briskly. "Judy, get back to Murray."

"Right! Yes!"

Judy took off, sprinting through the base, while Carmelita led the others in a different direction. Now that they were listening for it, they could hear the nearby fight raging between Murray and Wolf. The sounds weren't encouraging. But they couldn't slow down.

The munitions bunker stood before them, its thick steel door as imposing as Sly had said. Carmelita glanced to Bentley.

"Don't blow that up."

"Oh, of course not," he said. "Trying to free Wilde with explosives is much too dangerous."

Her eyes fell on the keypad. "Can you… hack that?"

He was already unfurling his laptop. "Way ahead of you."

Fox's ear twitched. "We've got another wave!"

"Roger!" Carmelita hefted her pistol. "Bentley, whatever you're doing, do it fast!"

"Uh - right!"

The drones poured in - far more of them this time, remnants of earlier waves regrouping to provide reinforcements. The two foxes opened fire, standing their ground.

A piece of shrapnel bounced off Bentley's head. Another - half a face, smoking and dented and a grim effigy of the thing which had severed his spine - slid across the concrete to stare up at him.

Bentley noticed his fingers were shaking. He was an old hand at hacking, and even at hacking while being shot at. But this was proving to be uniquely stressful.

The keypad wouldn't budge. It was designed to prevent anyone from walking off with military explosives, it was going to take much more than his standard tricks to bypass it. He had hacked through worse, but with more warning, more time to prepare. It just wasn't working. He was surrounded by people counting on him, with one of them trapped behind this door, possibly _dying_ , and all he could do was-

-hear his laptop ping.

He squinted. His preferred messaging app was quietly advertising an unread message in the corner of the screen. It hadn't been there when he started - he was the kind of person to clear out notifications as they came. Bentley didn't have time for distractions, which was exactly why he clicked on it. He didn't have the brainpower to wonder about it, or try to actively stop himself from wondering about it.

Unknown person. Username a jumble of letters and numbers he recognized as a heavy encryption algorithm. Pleasant blue font.

_**The code you're looking for is 0432016.** _

"Um."

He wasted another vital second looking around. The situation hadn't changed. There were the same number of people holding off the same incoming horde of robots. With the exception of one of the base's elderly security cameras, no-one was even looking in his direction.

Carmelita still sensed his hesitation. "Is there a problem?" she yelled, keeping her eyes, her salvo of shots, on the enemy.

"Someone I don't recognize just sent me this door's code…"

"That doesn't sound like a problem," said Fox, right beside her and doing the same.

"Agreed!" she said. "We'll be suspicious later, Bentley, we need that door open now!"

"That's really not…!"

She rolled her eyes. With only a few robots left - and Fox handling the stragglers with calm, precise shots - she looked over Bentley's shoulder, scanned the code, and hammered it in herself.

The door opened.

Nick had been prepared from the moment he had been thrown in here. He made sure to stay near the door, but also not too near the door, just in case they tried something dangerous like freeing him with explosives.

His partner was unpredictable like that. But she always came through.

As soon as the door opened, Nick leapt up, ready to escape his confinement and give his rescuer the greeting she was owed.

"Judy! I didn't doubt for a second you'd-!"

By the time Nick saw that the door had been opened by Carmelita, he was too committed to the motion to stop it. He was already flying forward, angled down, into what would have been a perfectly-calibrated hug for a rabbit.

Instead, his face collided with Carmelita's stomach and stayed there.

"Oh no," he said. "Oh _no_. Ohhhh no. No."

Carmelita just stood there.

"You, uh," he added, "you can kill me. If you want. Sorry you came all this way just to kill me, but you can." Then, "Oh no."

Fox neatly shot the final robot between its glowing eyes. He turned, smiled, holstered his pistol, crouched awkwardly, and joined the hug.

"Who's that? What's happening?" said Nick. "I'm too afraid to move but I'm blinded by these impeccable abs."

Carmelita took a step back and Nick looked up. Fox smiled down at him, still in the hug. "Hello!"

"How are _you_ here?!"

"We'll talk about it inside," said Carmelita. "And move swiftly on from… whatever that was."

"I," said Nick, "would like that. Please."

Bentley wheeled in after them, closing the bunker door over but ensuring it didn't fully shut - they didn't intend to trap themselves inside, especially with how hard it had been to gain access.

Especially with…

As Carmelita explained the plan, Bentley heard another ping from his laptop. He immediately felt a fresh wave of anxiety, but there was no sense ignoring it.

_**You're welcome.** _

Predicting that the obvious question of 'who are you?' would have an infuriatingly vague answer - if this person wanted to be known, they wouldn't be using encryptions heavy enough to make Bentley's eyes water - he instead went with _how are you tracking us? the cameras?_

_**Yes.** _

_**I've been working the Andross problem from my own side.** _

_**I want to help you take him down.** _

_ we've had bad experiences with outside help. _

_**I'm sure.  
We live in a cut-throat world.  
So when I tell you I would benefit from his death, you can believe that much, at least. ** _

_ Dont hold your breath  
we're not going to trust someone who doesnt even have a name _

_**Oh, is that all?  
**_  
Bentley still had reservations. Too much pain had come into his life in the guise of help. But when the final message came in, he had least had something to work with.

_**Call me Krystal.** _

* * *

Murray hit the bunker wall and fell.

It was getting harder and harder to get back up.

He would. And he did, fixing Wolf with a steady glare. But there was no ignoring the ache beginning to creep into his limbs, the sweat he felt on his back. And Wolf just stood there. Flawless.

"Is it starting to sink in yet, idiot?" Wolf took a step forward. "You're leagues below me." Another. "I could've taken you, easy, even _before_ all this." Another, punctuated by a sweep of his bare arms. Glowing. "And now, you're gonna die here. Just a footnote, in between the more important people, as I-"

Judy grabbed Wolf's tail and pulled very hard.

" _ **Agh!**_ " He stumbled. "What's wrong with you?!"

With a snarl, he whirled around and tried to kick her. Judy did not want to find out what a blow that powerful would have done to her, but she didn't have to find out. Wolf's anger made him sloppy, and she was able to roll under his legs.

"It doesn't matter what you've done!" She backed away smartly. "We can still handle you."

"Stand still! In a _straight_ fight-!"

"A 'straight' fight? Pass."

Wolf's ear perked and he looked up. So did Judy and Murray. Above them on a bunker roof, backlit by the winter sun, stood Sly Cooper.

"All we have to do is annoy you." His grin was more than a little spiteful. "And that sounds like a job for the world's most irritating man!"

"At last!" Judy gave a mock swoon. "Our hero arrives!"

Sly leapt off the roof directly at Wolf, who growled and prepared to strike. That strike never came, as Sly had intentionally overshot, landing into a smooth roll behind his target. Wolf was momentarily distracted, trying to keep his eye on this new opponent without ignoring Hopps-

And in this moment of distraction, Murray hucked a barrel at his head.

It was empty, bouncing off Wolf's face with an impressive metal _**clang**_. He roared.

"Hah! Nice one!" Sly caught Wolf's eye. "What's the matter, puppy, that come in from your _blind spot?"_

He began to move closer, and Wolf prepared to unleash a vicious attack - that, again, never came. Sly picked a perfect trajectory, brushing just against Wolf's effective reach. Tantalising, but not tenable.

"Y'know, this'd be the part where I start bringing out the insults I _know_ get you angry, based on our long and storied history." Sly gave his cane a theatrical twirl. "But honestly, you never left much of an impression on me. What was your thing again? Piracy?"

" **Die!** "

"Never."

Wolf leapt forward, slashing a hand down in a brutal arc. Predictably, Sly flowed back like water, comfortably out of reach. Wolf pressed the attack, moving as fast as he could, strike after strike. And Sly dodged him, never dropping his smirk.

"Careful!" Murray stayed focused. "He's backing you into a wall."

"Oh, he's trying to." Sly upgraded to a grin. "But he's-"

With a feral snarl, Wolf shunted his fist forward with everything he had. Sly barely ducked to the side, and he had a close-up view as Wolf's punch left a noticeably deep dent in the concrete.

"…still very strong." Sly slunk backward, cane held defensively. "You might have a point, big guy…"

Wolf retrieved his fist without so much as shaking the feeling back into it. "All I need," he growled, "is one slip-up. Then we'll see who's _laughing._ "

He lunged.

* * *

"You're fine going alone?"

Bentley met Carmelita's gaze. "I've still got plenty of bombs. I'll find a good vantage point and see if my tranquiliser darts have any effect on O'Donnell. I'm not optimistic, but it's worth a shot." She nodded.

"Thanks for the help," said Nick. "It's, uh…"

"It's okay. You can save it 'til we're out of danger."

"Smart."

"So I'm told."

With that, Bentley wheeled off towards the centre of the base. The three foxes went north.

"This is fun!" A drone popped out behind a bunker and Fox shot it without slowing down. "We make a great team!"

"We'd make an even better team," said Nick, jogging between them, "if we had three pistols."

"Hah! Yes."

"Sorry, Nick. I know you're an excellent shot, but resources are limited." Carmelita kept her guard and weapon up. "Just stay focused, and we'll get you out of here."

"Yeah. I know." He shot her a smile. "I've got full faith in you."

She paused. "That's it? No sarcastic comment?"

"Wow, harsh. That's what I get for showing genuine emotion for once? This is going straight in my journal."

"There it is."

They came to the base's northern hangar. The Clockwerk Jet was housed in the south. They all knew this. Yet there was still an irrational moment of relief as Carmelita pulled open the door to reveal it empty.

Empty except for an ordinary jet.

"Sly's photos were accurate. Amazing zoom on those Binocucoms…" Carmelita cleared her throat. "You two, be ready. I'm not sure how much longer the others can hold off Wolf."

"Noted," said Nick. "What's your plan for Penelope?"

"What?"

"Penelope's here too. She might pull something."

He frowned.

"You knew that, right? You have a plan to deal with her?"

Carmelita met his gaze.

Carmelita didn't break eye contact as she backed out of the hangar and shut the door.

"…I'm sure it's fine!" smiled Fox.

"Y'know what, bud? Maybe you're right." Nick folded his arms. "I've defined myself by pessimism my whole life. I need to start being more positive."

"Great!"

"And I trust Carmelita the absolute maximum I can trust another person. She's incredible."

"Sure!"

"So if she says it's fine, it's fine, y'know? I mean, all Penelope did was plunge me into a waking nightmare where I couldn't even trust my own mind and everything I loved almost burnt to ash. It's no big deal that she's right here but no-one is doing anything about it. We're fine. Loosey-goosey. Hakuna Matata."

"…Okay!"

After a moment, Nick cleared his throat. "So, can I help you prep the-?"

Before he could finish, a screen - identical to the one he had seen in the southern hangar - flicked on. Nick reflexively moved out of its line of sight, but abandoned that when Fox strode forward to meet it.

"Andross!"

The snow monkey glared. "Well. Taking a closer look at the _incident_ on my property was clearly a wise choice. At long last, I lay eyes on little Fox McCloud."

"His real name isn't 'Fox', right?" said Nick. "You know him. Can you confirm his real name is not, in fact, 'Fox'?"

They ignored him. Fox was tense. Ready. "Give it up. You've never won, Andross. Not once in all these years."

Andross shrugged. "Hm. Perhaps you have a point." His mouth curved in a smirk. "I seem to have gained a few new wrinkles since I _killed your parents._ "

"Woah!"

Nick stared, aghast. His eyes bounced from Fox back to Andross.

"Are you kidding me?! You jumped straight to that, with no build-up?!"

"This doesn't concern y–"

" _Shut up._ "

Andross blinked. Fox stole a glance at Nick, equally surprised. There was no humour left in his eyes. He stared Andross down, grim and solid.

"How _dare_ you," he spat. "You're scum, Ross. Legitimate scum. Every street thug I've ever dealt with has more class than you."

He thrust a hand out, gesturing to Fox.

"This nice young man is just doing his job. This is the kind of resistance you should be expecting. And your go-to move is to open with the lowest, most tasteless potshot you can think of?!" Nick's eyes burned. "If you think anyone's gonna respect you with an attitude like that, you're even more delusional than your dumb name makes you sound."

Andross held his gaze. Then he sighed, slowly, through his pointed teeth. "You're a convincing orator, Officer Wilde. And you're quite right. That was undignified of me."

He waved a hand.

"Good thing neither of you will live to dent my reputation."

"Ha ha," spat Nick. "Counterpoint-"

He took Fox's blaster out of his hands and shot the screen.

It went black the instant the first bolt impacted, but Nick gave it a few more, ensuring the connection was severed. Each blast of green illuminated his grimace.

The screen tumbled to the floor. He offered the pistol back.

"…Sorry. Should've asked to borrow it. Even if that would've ruined the moment a little."

"It's okay."

"Thanks. Now come on. We better get ready."

Fox holstered the pistol. He hesitated, then spoke. "Nick?"

"'Fox'?"

"…Junior."

Nick blinked. "What?"

Fox was very pointedly looking elsewhere. "My legal name is James McCloud Junior. But I'd really prefer it if you just called me 'Fox'. Please."

"Hey, of course. Whatever you want." Nick, after a moment's deliberation, put a hand on his shoulder. "I was just kidding around. I hope I didn't overstep or anything."

"It's okay. And thank you. For what you said back there." His voice was quiet. "It's… I don't like being reminded of my parents. What happened to them, I mean."

"Of course," said Nick softly. "Believe me, I get it."

"I try not to let it bother me, not when it comes from someone like him. But…"

Fox managed a smile, looking back at Nick.

"It's easier to ignore him when you yell at him like that."

Nick returned it. "Happy to be of service."


	12. Flack Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 15:11

* * *

The dance continued.

Judy was fast and Sly was graceful and Murray was at a distance, occasionally throwing projectiles. But nothing would slow down Wolf. He wasn't tired, and although he was angry, he hadn't lost focus. His eye burned grimly.

"Cowards, all of you!" His foot brushed Judy's ears as she dodged another kick. "I could take you _all_ if you had the spine to fight properly!" A barrel, thrown by Murray, bounced off his back to no reaction. "Two petty thieves and a _pencil-pusher!"_ His claws barely whispered past Sly's throat. "Is there anyone here who-?"

With a muted _chunk_ , a dart slammed into his neck.

The others watched warily, waiting for the tranquilliser to kick in. Wolf stood there. He licked his lips as though his mouth was dry.

Then he reached up, removed the dart, and crushed it in his hand. He followed its trajectory and locked eyes with Bentley, watching from several meters away with concern and no small amount of regret.

Wolf broke into a vicious grin. "We have a volunteer!"

He pounced.

Judy and Sly both moved to stop him and he easily swatted them away with one hand each, sprinting towards Bentley like a deadly projectile.

"Back **off!** " Murray threw himself into his path - and was thrown aside almost as casually. Wolf bore down on the turtle, nothing between Bentley and the manic gleam in his eye.

"Uh-!" Bentley didn't flee, because Wolf could easily outpace him. And he didn't throw a bomb, tempting as that was, because there was too big a risk of catching himself in the blast. He instead opted for an unusual defensive tactic that would not have been out of place in a badly-written highschool movie.

He pulled out his laptop and held up the screen as a shield.

Wolf didn't slow, more than willing to take his anger out on a sad little nerd he knew was far more dangerous than the glasses and wheelchair and nasal voice suggested. Barely anything could stop him now.

And then Fox McCloud was looking up at him.

Wolf stopped short, eye wide, for a split-second. Long enough to realize this wasn't a photograph, a cheap trick. Fox's eyes moved in real time. A live feed.

It was really him.

"Fox? Pup?" Wolf pulled the laptop out of Bentley's hands, who couldn't stop him if he tried. "The hell are you doing?"

"I have to stop Andross." Fox wasn't smiling. "You know that, Wolf."

"But I shot you down!"

"You did," said Fox. "And it hurt. I mean that literally, Wolf. I was badly injured. But I can't give up."

"Fox, you little dolt! If you're hurt, you shouldn't be-!"

Wolf caught himself, noticing the background behind Fox.

"You really are here," he murmured. "Which hangar? North or south?"

"Oh, the north! Feel free to join us."

Nick's smug voice came across the connection, followed immediately by Nick's smug face. Whatever softness had appeared in Wolf's expression evaporated instantly into a furious snarl. "Shut it, Wilde! Get back to your cell!"

"No thanks. Foxy is giving me a lift straight out of here." He laid an arm around the other fox's shoulders. "He's quite a catch, y'know. Such a gentleman."

Nick had been joking, so he was surprised to see the fury in Wolf's eye joined by a new element - jealousy. A low blow, but it worked. " _You_ ," he spat, "aren't going anywhere. And you…" He turned to Fox. "You still don't get it. I guess I'll just have to blow you out of the sky _again_."

Fox met his gaze calmly. "You can stop at any time, Wolf."

" **Quiet!** "

Wolf flung the laptop away - knocking Bentley's wheelchair over in the process. Without a second glance, he ran for the southern hangar. The Clockwerk Jet.

Murray was there in an instant. "Bentley! You okay?"

"Fine. Just fine. Thanks." Bentley checked over his laptop as Murray righted his wheelchair, but it was just scuffed.

"Time to go. Let's get you into the Van."

"Hold on!" Judy jogged up, concerned. "Wolf's moving way faster than we anticipated. I don't think there's enough time for Carmelita to-"

She was cut off by a roar.

They turned, seeing Sly had claimed the motorcycle. He gunned it through the base, hazel eyes focused.

The three of him watched him go. Judy idly nodded to herself.

"Well. That works."

* * *

Carmelita was ready.

Their sad little plan was nearing its end. At this point, one of two things would happen. Wolf would either head for the southern hangar and prepare to face Fox in the air, or - his judgement clouded by anger - try to confront Fox in the northern one. They were hoping for the latter. It would give them more time to escape.

Even if that meant Carmelita facing him alone.

But it wasn't Wolf who roared towards her from the centre of the base. It was Sly. He had stolen her motorcycle.

She glared as he pulled up. "What are you doing?!"

"You're welcome." He slipped off, leaving it idling. "We definitely got Wolf angry, but maybe too angry. He's decided to use that aeronautic nightmare to vent his frustration. We need to hurry."

"I _inferred_ all that." She jabbed a finger at the two helmets which had been rattling uselessly on the bike. "Why didn't you put one of those on?"

"Uh," said Sly.

"A short distance is no excuse." Carmelita slammed the red helmet back on, then shoved the black one into Sly's chest. "So use this and let's go."

They were extremely low on time, so Sly didn't argue. He flipped the helmet around in his hands and settled it on, letting it sit atop his hat. Then he eagerly sat onto the motorcycle, wrapping his arms around Carmelita's stomach as she took the reins.

"'Lita?" he murmured.

"What?"

"You're a huge nerd."

"Shut it, Ringtail."

* * *

Penelope bit her lip, eyeing the cockpit of the Clockwerk Jet.

It was a complex design, but she understood it perfectly. She would have understood it even without looking at the schematics. The decisions Andross had made were unorthodox, but intuitive, such as moving the main firing mechanism to be controlled by the pilot's middle finger rather than thumb.

Maybe that was bespoke, built to Wolf's preferences. Because the rest of the cockpit certainly was.

There was no way a mouse could pilot this.

It wasn't entirely out of the question. Penelope had spent her life repurposing interesting technology to work for her. There was undoubtedly _some_ way of rewiring all the controls for her size. More simply, she could have tried controlling the Jet remotely, like the RC drones she had perfected.

But even if she could implement those changes immediately, before her dumb enemies got away, it still wouldn't be enough. Andross had built it to only function with a pilot. A pilot the size and shape of Wolf O'Donnell.

She really missed having a mech-suit.

With the steely fists of the Black Baron or the mighty axe of the Black Knight or even just the longer legs and sturdier arms of the nameless rig she used for tinkering, she could have joined this fight from the beginning. She could have waded in as a force comparable to Wolf, even with his new improvements. As it stood, she would barely qualify as a distraction.

She huffed, producing a small tablet she had synced to the security cameras. Wolf was closing in, and fast. Murray was loading Bentley and Judy into the Van. Carmelita and Sly were driving into the northern hangar, where-

Blackness.

Penelope blinked. There were supposed to be four cameras monitoring the interior of the hangar. They were all dead. She rewound one several seconds, and solid black became solid green. Another half-second, and the bolt of energy danced back into Fox's blaster. Nick watched on with a smirk.

They had destroyed the cameras, one by one. Why?

She quickly resumed the live feed of the external cameras. The spare jet exploded out of the hangar, gaining altitude and banking northwest. Simultaneously, Carmelita roared by on her motorcycle, still in her helmet, but her passenger had changed. Sly's blue shirt became Nick's black jacket. The grey ringed tail became orange, tipped with…

Penelope paused.

Two foxes entered. A fox and a raccoon entered. Two foxes left. They were all targets, so maybe it wasn't worth overthinking such a minor detail. Especially something she had never paid much attention to before. Now that was she actively trying to remember, the answer eluded her grasp.

Nick's tail had always been tipped with black, hadn't it?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Wolf rushing into the hangar. His eye was a little wild.

"Good. You prepped it. Move."

She huffed. "I still think I should be able to-"

"I still don't care!"

He hoisted himself up, and to his credit was graceful enough to move past Penelope without jostling her. He took the pilot's seat, flicking through controls rapidly.

"You got eyes on them?"

Penelope glanced back to the tablet. "Carmelita's taking him out on her motorcycle, due east. You need to-"

"On the jet! On _Fox!_ "

"Listen," she said, "I haven't verified it, but I suspect they've sw-"

The Jet's engines roared to life and the cockpit began to close. Penelope yelled something, and judging by her face, it was not polite. Then she gave up and leapt off, abandoning Wolf to his chase.

Systems optimised. Engines online. Eye blazing.

In an instant he was out of the hangar and into the sharp winter sunlight, tearing through the sky at speeds only this unholy design could achieve. All too easy to locate the sole ping on his radar. All too easy to whirl around behind it and gain on its trajectory.

Too easy. Way too easy.

The stolen jet wobbled in the air, pulling away from the base as fast as it could. Sloppy, childish flying. Much worse than Fox's usual standard. His injury, probably.

Wolf had injured him. Wolf had blown him out of the damn sky less than a day ago. And it still wasn't enough.

He fired a warning shot over the wing. No response except more wobbling. He wasn't even bothering with standard evasive manoeuvres.

Was it because of the injury? Or was Wolf being _mocked?_

He felt a growl low in his throat. He had won already. He had finally beaten Fox at his own game, and he still wasn't getting the respect he was owed?! Another warning shot, closer, and another passive wobble. Nothing. _Nothing_.

With a snarl, Wolf slammed a button. The jets' communication system. He had shared some choice words with Fox and his insipid friends over Zootopia. Growls and banter. But now it was under his skin. He would not be denied.

" **Fox!** " he roared the second the audio connected. "You can't ignore me forever!"

No response. The barest hint of laughter.

" _Listen_ to me, you little nerd!" Wolf glanced to the video feed projected against the windscreen, but it was still black. Buffering? Blocked? "The old man wants you alive, but I'm not so patient. Fight me like a man, or I'll-!"

"Easy, fella," came a smooth voice. "Talk about sky-rage."

"How's he even talking to us?" came another. "Why would they design it so that- oh, hey. My elbow's on the camera."

There was a shuffling, and a sudden field of white as the camera adjusted to new light. Wolf stared.

Sly. Nick. Barely sharing the space in the cockpit. Sly's hands on the controls. Nick, in Fox's jacket, awkwardly folded on his lap. Both grinning.

"Hi," said Sly.

"Surprised?" said Nick.

"What?!" Wolf blinked. "Where's Fox?!"

* * *

Carmelita tore her motorcycle through the gravel and dust, safely out of reach of the base's defences. Her passenger clung to her back, handling the speed well. His orange tail, tipped with white, caught the wind.

She smirked, shouting over her shoulder. "That uniform looks good! Would you consider a career change after this?"

Fox laughed. "Thank you. But I belong in the sky!"

* * *

Sly and Nick savoured the expression of shock on Wolf's face.

It didn't last. Just as suddenly, their pursuer broke into a vicious grin.

"Well now… You're telling me I _can_ shoot you down."

"Oh," said Sly.

"Uh," said Nick.

A second later, Wolf let loose.

The whole plane juddered horribly, and Sly gritted his teeth against it. "How - is this thing - _flimsier_ \- than a biplane?!"

"You-" Nick curled up instinctively, one arm digging into Sly's shoulders for support. "You've got a plan, right? Right?!"

"Oh, sure!"

Sly calmly slammed his fist into a big red button.

In an instant the hatch exploded and their seat was fired upwards with the jarring speed of a bullet. Nick saw their jet survive about two seconds longer before Wolf's furious barrage ignited an engine, swallowing the craft in a fireball.

They were above it. Safe. And when their upward momentum stalled against gravity, and their brief moment of weightlessness was about to pass, a parachute unfurled from the back of the seat. They could set down lightly in the forest below.

With a movement Nick was forced to admit was very impressive and graceful, Wolf turned the Clockwerk Jet around and sliced a wing through their parachute.

The wind rushed. Loud. Hungry. They were plummeting and Nick couldn't suppress a cry of fear, green eyes wide-

"Easy, Slick, I've got you!"

Sly kicked off the seat, still holding Nick tight. And out came a familiar pattern of blue and white.

The paraglider groaned and strained, burdened with twice the usual weight, but this design had weathered far worse. Their descent wasn't as gentle as a feather, but nor was it as blunt and fatal as a rock. It was fast and unsteady but survivable, and in the moment that somehow seemed like a happy medium.

Nick and Sly collapsed into the forest with a crash of foliage and a burst of laughter.

They fell over each other, an undignified tangle of limbs, before settling to a stop on the forest floor. Nick was on his back and felt no particular urge to immediately rectify that. Sly joined him.

"That was… that…!" Nick's chest was heaving. "Where did you learn to fly a fighter jet?!"

"C'mon, Slick, you know the answer to that." Sly's eyes shone. "I didn't. I don't learn things! I just do them. I already told you, I can drive pretty much anything."

"I hate you so _much_ ," said Nick, through the widest, happiest grin Sly had ever seen.

Their joy was cut short by an echoing shriek. One Sly knew all too well. He laid a protective hand on Nick's shoulder, signalling him to stay low. They both watched the sky through the leaves above.

A shadow passed overhead. And kept going.

About a minute passed in silence, and finally Nick let out a snicker.

And then Sly was laughing, and Nick was laughing, and all was well. Two mammals lying on the forest floor, relatively safe and relatively unharmed and, all things considered, pretty happy.

"That," said Nick, eventually, "was pretty impressive, Ringtail."

"I live to serve, Slick."

He sat up, resting on his elbows, and gave Nick a warm smile.

"I'm so glad you're alright."

"Believe me, so am I…"

Nick returned it. He remembered how, not long ago, he felt a need to meet Sly's every statement with hostility. That felt like another lifetime now. And here, sharing a quiet moment in a secluded forest, there was no need for sarcasm.

"It's good to see you again, Sly."

"It is, isn't it?" he beamed, and Nick shoved him. Playfully.

* * *

A disaster.

She had been useless. This whole time, she had accomplished nothing. No weapon. No plan. When she first saw the two spare jets in this base, she had immediately thought of rigging one to work for her, but that fell deep down on her lengthy to-do list.

Now all Penelope could do was flick through security footage. The Van disappearing in one direction. Carmelita's motorcycle screaming away in another. The stolen jet had taken a third.

Not the worst plan. Still embarrassing it worked, though.

"Hey!"

Penelope's tablet rattled in her hand as Wolf forced a call through to her. He glared at her from within the Clockwerk Jet.

"Can you, uh - is there something you can do to find someone in the forest to the northwest? I shot down Wilde and Cooper, but I think they survived."

"Oh." Penelope's face was drawn. "You shot down Wilde and Cooper, huh?"

"That's what I said."

"It was Wilde and Cooper in that jet, was it?"

"Yes!"

"So when I _tried_ to tell you that I suspected McCloud and Wilde had swapped places-"

Wolf snarled. "Can you help or not, nerd?! We can't let them escape!"

Penelope took a breath. "Fine," she said. "But they're moving in different directions. We have to prioritise."

"Where's Fox?"

"On the motorcycle, as I was _trying_ to-"

The tablet rattled again. The screen awkwardly made space for another face.

Andross did not look pleased.

"Mister O'Donnell. Miss Earhart." His nostrils flared. "Care to explain yourselves?"

" _Don't blame me!_ " they both snapped in near-unison.

"This idiot," said Penelope, faster thanks to the conversational advantage of not flying a fighter jet, "only had eyes for his _boyfriend_. His tactics were sloppy, and-!"

"She did **nothing!** " roared Wolf. "Some expert! If any of these clowns tried to step on her-!"

" _Enough_."

Andross bared his teeth. The anger in his eyes gave him an air of authority. For once.

"Both of you are losing sight of the bigger picture. This entire altercation has been a waste of our time. Titania Airbase is useless to us now, so withdraw to Bolse. There is no way they can follow."

"But Cooper-!"

"But _Fox_ -!"

"That is a direct order," he growled. "Stop sinking to their level. We are above them. Am I clear?"

"Ugh," said Penelope. "Whatever. I'll get my stuff."

"Do so with haste. O'Donnell, circle back on the double. Prepare to jump the instant she's onboard."

"Wait, wait," said Penelope, as Wolf grunted his assent. "You loaded a lot of files onto the airbase computers-"

"No matter. I'll delete them."

"Remotely? That won't be good enough! If you want to make sure there's no traces left, you _need_ to-"

"Every moment we discuss this," said Andross, "is a moment you waste." With that, he cut the feed.

Penelope spluttered. "I don't - **argh!** Can you believe this guy?!"

"Yes," said Wolf, and shut off his own connection.

Penelope huffed. She fixed the strand of hair that had escaped her bandana.

And she began gathering what she could of her own equipment. If Andross didn't want her help, he wasn't getting it.

* * *

"Any word?"

Judy hoped she didn't seem too anxious. Murray's reply was steady. "We'll tell you as soon as we hear."

"Sure…"

The Van was tearing away from the base, and Judy was standing on the front seat, watching through the side-mirror. There was a familiar noise.

Judy's ears shot up. "Oh, here it comes!"

The Clockwerk Jet tore in. It set down.

It didn't linger long.

When she saw the wings unfurl and the Jet begin to take off again, she held out a hand.

"Murray, quick - can I borrow your binoculars thingy?"

"Binocucom," corrected Bentley from the back.

"Sure." Murray kept his eyes on the purely proverbial road as he handed it over. "What for?"

"That thing entered and left Zootopia way, _way_ faster than it should have." Judy stood at the window, aiming the dark pink Binocucom back at the base. "This time, I'm keeping my eyes on it."

The device was heavy in her small hands, and the Van bumped and trundled beneath her. But her view was steady. Her vigil was unbroken. She would not look away from the Clockwerk Jet.

And then it was gone.

There was a moment of panic as she cast around for it, but the sky was empty. Just like that, it vanished.

Judy let out a long, slow sigh. "…Cheese and crackers."


	13. Regroup Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 15:20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooOOOOOoooooo, thirteenth chapter just in time for hallowe'EEEEEEEN... there's no horror-themed content in this at AAAAaaaaaAAAALLLLllllLLLL.... booooooo....

* * *

"All in all," said Sly, "that could've been a lot worse."

He and Nick were picking their way through the dense forest. They stayed close, and Sly kept a finger to one ear.

"Anybody hearing this?"

"We read you!" Bentley's voice came in with a minimum of static.

"I'm getting this too." Carmelita's connection was shakier, but still audible. "Sounds like we're all still within range. Just about."

"Great work, Bentley," smiled Sly. "I can live without the Internet, and I can live without a cellphone. But I definitely _can't_ live without your voice in my ear."

"I think we've proven that over the years, yes," said Bentley, but his tone was warm. "It's no big deal, really, I didn't have to do much. Whatever's blocking communications seems to be overlooking our earpieces. For now, at least."

"For now," echoed Carmelita. "Report, Sly. Are you both okay?"

"Oh, we're wonderful."

He glanced over to Nick, who didn't quite return his grin. "I wish I had an earpiece. Feels weird only getting half this conversation."

"Nick says," said Sly, "he's in no rush to get back to the rest of you because he's having so much fun with me."

"No, he doesn't," said Carmelita calmly, as Sly dodged another playful swipe from Nick.

"Yeah, alright, he doesn't. But he's fine. We both are."

"I'll admit I was dubious, Sly," continued Carmelita. A smile was creeping into her voice. "I didn't think you could handle a jet as well as you claimed. But clearly I was wrong."

Sly cringed. "Uh-"

"Of course he could!" said Bentley. "He's the victor of the final ACES dog-fighting tournament, after all. Although eluding a veteran like O'Donnell is still an impressive achievement."

"Yeah…" By now Sly's distress had been noticed by Nick, who watched him with a raised eyebrow.

"It is," agreed Carmelita. "Now land the jet somewhere we can rendezvous."

Leaves crunched underfoot.

"…Sly? Do you read me?"

"Funny story," said Sly, "about the jet."

Carmelita's tone darkened instantly. "What happened?"

"Turns out," said Sly slowly, "flying a fighter jet was actually just a _touch_ outside my skill-set. Flying it well, at least. Against someone who flies them for a living. So Wolf, um… shot us down."

"He _what?!_ "

"We're fine!" stressed Sly. "I mean it. The ejector seat worked and I paraglided us both to safety. This forest was too thick for Wolf to find us, so-"

"So, what? You were just assuming he wouldn't carpet-bomb the whole area?!"

"We're okay, 'Lita." Sly frowned. "I don't know what else to tell you."

There was a heavy silence on the line. Finally, Bentley spoke. "Are you close to the base?"

"Uh, kinda? It was a short trip, but it was in a fighter jet, so…"

"Murray's offering to pick you two up in the Van."

Sly glanced around. "Thanks, but like I said, it's pretty dense. I don't think we could get a vehicle through here, even Carmelita's bike."

Nick met his eyes with a shrug. "I'm good to walk if you are."

"Yeah. Yeah, we'll just meet you guys on foot. Where should we go? Should we try heading back to Zootopia?" He frowned. "Might not be worth it, considering the giant dome made out of robots…"

Nick stared. "The - the _what?!"_

Carmelita's voice returned. It was curt. Businesslike. "Fox has an… unorthodox suggestion."

"Oh," said Bentley. "Does he."

"If Andross' forces have fully cleared out of the base, it might be worth going back. We could recover something useful. And right now, we need intel."

"Makes as much sense as anything else," said Sly. "Me and Nick will head that direction. That'll give you guys time to make sure the base is safe. Clear out any threats-"

"I _know_ , Sly."

"Okay," he said meekly. "I'll see you there, 'Lita."

"Yeah." Her voice vanished.

Bentley coughed. "I'll pass that on to Murray and Hopps. See you soon."

"Sure thing, pal."

Sly removed his finger from his ear, shooting Nick a smirk.

"Just you and me for a while, Slick. Hiking through a forest together… Real romantic, wouldn't you say?"

"Sure." Nick's own smirk didn't waver. "And it sounds like you'll get to share this lovely experience with Carmelita, when she takes you out here to bury you in a shallow grave."

"…Yeah. That sounds about right."

* * *

Without the sounds of battle, the base felt eerily quiet. Empty.

Fox moved slowly between the bunkers. Nick's winter jacket felt heavy on his shoulders. At first, he was checking for leftover drones or anything else that could pose a threat. But there was nothing jumping out to fight him, no heroic battle to claim his attention.

The only sound was the quiet whirring of his legs.

He came to the centre of the base. The Van's tyre tracks still etched the ground - this must have been where the others had fought Wolf.

Looking closer, he saw other evidence. Barrels and other items thrown haphazardly around. The crushed remains of a tranquiliser dart. A noticeable dent in a concrete bunker wall, the approximate size of Wolf's fist… What had he done to himself?

And there. Lying discarded on the tarmac. A blue jacket Fox recognised.

He walked over to it, slowly, almost as though it might run from him. But there was no motion, not so much as a breeze, as he closed in.

He bent down, then picked it up. Looking it over, there was no doubt in his mind. He knew the pattern of the fabric, the ridges along the torso, the ludicrous spikes on the shoulders Wolf always liked so much.

Fox brought the jacket to his face and smelled it. Definitely Wolf.

The scent brought back so many memories, now so long past. It even jostled loose obscure ones, things Fox's conscious mind had forgotten but his instincts would never quite let go. A tapestry of their shared history.

That was over now. And he couldn't allow himself to put anything above the mission. Even this. Even Wolf. But tragic as it was, it felt good to lose himself in the moment. To relive, if only briefly, happier times.

"Uh," said Bentley, "what are you doing?"

He saw Fox practically jump out of his skin. It was the most reaction he had ever shown to anything. "Oh-!"

He turned, giving Bentley a hasty smile.

"I zoned out for a moment! I was just…"

Bentley held up a hand. "You don't need to lie."

"What?"

"I get the impression that lying is very much not in your nature. And I apologise for intruding on you during a private moment. Whatever that was… Well, I'm not about to judge you."

Fox looked away. Bentley was about to wheel away when he spoke again. "Thank you."

"Forget about it."

"I really appreciate it, actually," said Fox, who for once had not interpreted a statement literally. This was tragic, because Bentley had meant it literally, and had other matters to attend to. But seeing the pain in those green eyes gave him pause. "It's been tough. All of it has. But Wolf…"

When he trailed off, Bentley prompted him. "When you were helping us put that plan together, you said you knew how Wolf thinks. You said you used to be very close."

"Yes."

"May I ask… _how_ close?"

Fox paused for a long time, but Bentley could see the calculation in his eyes. He wasn't ignoring him, just trying to find the right words. "I don't know."

"Oh."

"I had never dated someone before," said Fox, "and I haven't really dated anyone since. And I really don't know if what we did counts as 'dating'."

"But it would be in that, uh… general area?"

"I think so?"

Fox looked back down at the jacket. He began to neatly fold it.

"People are confusing," he said. "And no-one is more confusing to me than Wolf. He's done some very bad things."

"He just tried to murder us all," said Bentley flatly.

"Yes!" said Fox. "That's not good! And I won't make excuses for him. There's no justification for what he's doing. He needs to stop."

The jacket was folded now. There was nothing else Fox could do with it. He tucked it under his arm.

His voice was quiet. "I really wish he would stop."

Bentley had gotten better over the years at emotional intelligence, mostly by force. But he still felt unequipped to address the soft longing in Fox's tone. He coughed. "Uh. Sorry."

"It's alright." Fox caught himself, trying to focus on the moment. "This probably sounds very silly to you."

"Actually," sighed Bentley, "I know exactly how you feel."

He took off his glasses for a moment, cleaning a lens. Calm. Professional. Something to do with his hands.

"Are you familiar with Penelope Earhart?"

"Nick said something about her," said Fox. "He said she was here, and that she… She did something very bad to him."

"Yeah," sighed Bentley. "She did."

He fixed his glasses back in place.

"It seems Andross hired her. I had worried that was the case, after the Clockwerk Jet attacked the prison. And now we have confirmation from Wilde."

"Who is she?"

"She is to me," said Bentley, "what Wolf is to you."

"Oh." Fox frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Well. Maybe not quite. Did Wolf ever hurt you?"

"No. Never." Fox's answer was instant. "He lost his temper a lot, and sometimes he said some things that… He got angry. But never at me. Why?"

"Then Penelope is worse than Wolf."

Fox's ears were low. "What happened?"

"Honestly?" said Bentley. "I'm not sure. I still don't understand what inspired her to make the decisions she did. To be blunt, it makes no sense to me. And that's maybe the worst part."

"Oh."

"But as much as I'd rather not accept it - as much as it sounds unbelievable, even _outlandish_ , compared to the woman I knew - I live in a world where it's true. And there's nothing I can do now but deal with it."

"Right," said Fox. "That makes sense."

"I know it's hard to stay focused. Believe me, I'm right there with you. But we can't get caught up in the past. Not during a fight this important. We have to win, no matter who we're up against."

"You're right."

Fox gave Bentley a hesitant smile.

"Thank you for sharing."

"Uh," said Bentley, who was looking forward to ending this conversation. "If you continue feeling… _preoccupied…_ I'd suggest talking to Murray instead. He's better at this stuff than I am."

"Okay. I will."

Bentley began turning his wheelchair, silently hoping he hadn't just thrown Murray a difficult task. But before he could leave, Fox spoke again.

"I'm never going to give up on this mission. I know what's at stake. But… do you think I can get Wolf to stop? Without hurting him, I mean?"

Bentley paused.

Again, there was that uncertainty. Murray would have a more tactful answer. So would Sly. But Bentley wasn't the kind of person to sugarcoat facts. He could only tell the truth.

"Do you know what the real problem is?" he said. "It's not that Penelope hurt me. If she had just hurt _me_ , we might be able to salvage things. It's that she hurt Sly. She endangered Murray and Carmelita. And a few months ago, yes, she did something _very_ bad to Nick. And to Judy. Something no-one would never deserve. That's why I'm not trying to talk things out. I never have. If she doesn't value the people I do, there's nothing to discuss."

"Oh," said Fox.

"This might not be what you want to hear, Lieutenant, but I hope you take it to heart."

Bentley's glasses caught the cold winter sun.

"If you think you can change O'Donnell's mind, that's your prerogative. But he very clearly doesn't value our lives. When the time comes… remember that."

With that, Bentley wheeled away. Leaving Fox alone with a discarded jacket.

* * *

Murray picked them up in the Van.

Once he had dropped Bentley and Judy back at the base, he had worked out which direction they'd be walking in from. Judy had almost come with him, but she knew it wouldn't take long, and she wanted to help sweep the base. So Murray had taken the Van and went to pick them up.

Murray was a good brother.

He had waited at the edge of the forest until, eventually, the sound of laughter began to drift through the trees towards him. Sly and Nick were still in high spirits, and they greeted him warmly. Thanked him for taking them the rest of the way.

It was nothing, really. Murray was a good brother.

And, in turn, Judy was eagerly waiting for them. Her ears shot up when she saw them coming - Murray noticed Nick's did the same. He pulled to a stop and Nick fell out of the Van and the two of them wasted no time in hugging.

"Carrots-!"

"Nick!"

They fit together like magnets. Murray realized they hadn't seen each other since he had gotten kidnapped. It showed. They hugged and laughed and didn't show a shred of irony, or self-consciousness. Just a genuine moment of warmth. Nick spun Judy around in a hug and then, impressively, she returned the favour.

Watching them, Murray felt a smile form on his face.

"They really are something, huh?"

Sly's voice was similarly warm. He glanced to Murray.

"Reckon we should give them some space?"

"Yeah," said Murray. "Good plan. I'll find someplace to park."

He pulled away from the partners and headed for the northern hangar. He knew it was empty, and it would keep the Van out of sight. Picking the best spot for it was old habit. He had to keep it safe.

No matter how difficult that got. How thankless.

"Thanks again for the pickup," said Sly, lounging against the passenger door. "I mean, it wasn't that far from the edge of the forest to here, but still, I appreciate it."

"Sure thing," said Murray. He focused on pulling into the hangar.

"It was so good to catch up with Nick," he smiled. "He seems like he's doing really well. Took all of this like a champ. He's really bounced back from the Phantasm thing."

"That's great," said Murray. He focused on parking the Van.

"It is," said Sly. "He deserves it. And honestly? So do I. After everything I did for him, I gotta protect my investment." He smirked. "It was worth it. Heck, I'd probably do it all again."

Murray cut the Van's ignition, and that was all he did. He didn't make any weird faces. He didn't say anything.

Because Murray was a good br-

"Okay!" he said. "That's it!"

Sly blinked. "Murray-?"

"I gotta say it! I can't keep not saying it! I-"

Murray turned on him, but immediately faltered. His lip quivered as he forced out the words.

"…I'm still mad at you!"

"Oh," said Sly.

"I mean - it's just-!" Murray threw up his arms. "My job is to keep you safe! That's already a hard job! And you keep, like - you keep deciding you don't want me to do it! By yourself!"

"Yeah," said Sly.

"Like - one time? That'd be okay! But it's becoming a habit! You go on some big adventure, and at the end you disappear, and I'm supposed to just… I'm…!"

Murray sighed heavily.

"…Nevermind," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Sly matched his gaze, calm but humble.

"You're not the one who should apologize. I am. You're totally right."

"I am?" Murray strengthened. "Yeah! I am!"

"Yeah! You are!"

"Yeah!"

Sly took off his hat, letting his hands pull at the fabric. "I've done it more than once," he agreed. "And that last time, I thought it was the right move. And it _was_ \- for Nick and Judy. I didn't consult you two. No, worse. You'd already told me not to do it, and I ignored you."

"Yeah," said Murray. "And, like - I don't want to say you shouldn't help other people! That'd be messed up! But…"

He faltered, but Sly sensed his sentiment. "But we're brothers. And that should mean something."

"Exactly! Exactly. Thank you."

Sly paused. "I didn't really apologise, did I?" he said. "You guys picked me up in Zootopia, and Bentley said we had to just focus on Clockwerk - and I mean, he was right…"

"Bentley's always right," agreed Murray.

"But I never actually took the time to…"

"You tried to," said Murray. "And I appreciate that. But since then, you've just acted like this is all normal. It's not. It shouldn't be!"

Sly nodded.

"Can we…" Murray trailed into a frown. "Can we just try to come out of this one together?"

"We shouldn't make any promises we can't keep, pal."

Sly's voice was unusually sombre.

"We're very badly outgunned, here. Honestly, there's decent odds of us not coming out of this at all, let alone all in one piece."

He reached up to put a hand on Murray's shoulder.

"But that's all the more reason I'm really, really glad you're still watching my back. I'm sorry if I took you for granted. There's no way I could do this without you."

Murray paused. Then he patted Sly's hand, dwarfing it in his own. "Thanks. That's all I needed to hear."

"If you ever need to hear it again, just tell me. It's never a good idea to let that kind of thing go unsaid."

After a moment, Murray let out a breath. "Man, that was heavy. Turns out I don't like yelling at people. Especially you!"

"I'll try not to give you any more reasons to." Sly gently withdrew his hand, then indicated back into the base. "The Van seems secure here. You wanna grab a bite to eat together?"

"Yes," said Murray. "Yes, I do."

* * *

"Y'know, Carrots, you can let go now."

"I _can_." Judy's voice was muffled by Nick's stomach. "And I will. In like five more minutes."

He laughed. "You're really testing the limits of my newfound hug-tolerance."

"Abusing it, really."

"Well," he announced, "as you've no doubt noticed, I'm still wearing Fox's jacket. And he's still got mine. I wanna find him and swap back. So…"

The rabbit clinging to him made no attempt to move. He gave a theatrical sigh.

"Oh, that's fine. I'll just…"

He slipped his right foot under her left, and vice versa, and began to shuffle her through the base. She giggled and held on tighter.

"Would you believe," said Nick, "this is only the second-weirdest hug I've had today?"

"I would!" she said. "Because it's mine too!"

"Really?"

"Sly and Carmelita had a heartfelt reunion I found touching. _Very_ touching. Because they accidentally sandwiched me inside it."

"Huh," he said. "Mine was Carmelita-centric too. One of those days, I guess."

"Apparently!"

He cast his gaze around the base, no longer looking for just Fox. "Where is she, by the way? I haven't seen her."

Judy finally disengaged from the hug with a mild frown. "Actually, me neither…"

"Hmm."

She looked up at him. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing major…"

He smiled down at her. She really was relieved that he was okay. That smile still intact.

"Just thinking she might need an actual hug."


	14. Dinners and Losers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18:03

  
  


* * *

He found her in the cafeteria.

He knew it was technically a 'mess hall', not a cafeteria. That information was stored in the same incessant part of Nick's brain that knew right and left became port and starboard on a boat. But it was certainly drab enough to be a cafeteria, so he went with that. He had been trying to prioritise emotional realities over technicalities lately.

The emotional reality was that Carmelita looked lonely.

She was alone. She had been since the battle ended. He saw her sitting in the back, close to the small kitchen area. The tightest corner among several long tables. She had taken off her jacket, leaving her powerful shoulders bare – it was a little strange seeing her without it. She could have lain it anywhere on the table, or on the empty chairs beside her. Instead, she had hung it on the back of the chair she was using. Her food was similarly close to her chest.

She was taking up as little space as possible in a huge, empty room. Nick supposed it was habit. This was what she would do if the room was packed, and she had simply stuck to that. But that struck him as a poor excuse. A woman like her deserved all the space she damn well wanted.

"Hey." He waved to her, intruding on her thoughts from a safe distance. "Mind if I come in?"

She looked up, and upon seeing her eyes Nick amended his diagnosis from 'lonely' to 'tired and lonely'. Her voice was low. "Who am I to stop you?"

He smirked. "If you wanted to stop me, I would undoubtedly be stopped."

She just shrugged.

Nick detoured through the kitchen, examining the food Wolf had abandoned here. He procured an apple, some water, and a block of _something_ he was eager to try less for its taste or nutritional value and more to work out what it was supposed to be.

He glanced around, sauntering back to her table. "There's cookers and stuff back there. I guess there's also supposed to be… cooks?"

"Maybe." Carmelita was focused on her fork. "Long gone. Like everybody else."

"Not everybody." Nick sat across from her. "There's our foxy fox friend Fox. There's me and Carrots, there's the three lovable idiots who have stolen our collective hearts…" His smirk grew a little more serious. "And there's you."

Slowly, she set down her cutlery. "Yes," she said. "Me."

A moment passed in silence. "We haven't seen much of you since we all regrouped."

"No," she said.

"You, uh," said Nick, "don't seem - and I'm only using the most cromulent possible language here - very jazzed."

"Nick, I'm not in the mood for a comedy routine. Not after today."

"Stressful circumstances," he acknowledged. "But we're doing okay, right?"

"Hardly. That extraction was a trainwreck."

Nick tilted his head. "Madame Inspector, I don't mean to contradict you. But I think the mission to rescue that idiot Nick Wilde went well, considering…" He splayed his arms. "Well, don't say anything too rude about him. I'm pretty sure he's in the room."

"But we came _so_ close to losing you." She glared. "We threw together a plan, and it barely worked. To answer the question you asked me earlier, Nick: no, we did not know Penelope was here, and no, we had no way to deal with her. It's dumb luck she didn't try anything. If she had…"

Nick didn't have a reply for that.

"Instead," she said, "we focused on O'Donnell. We at least had a chance of preparing for him, since as it happens, he and McCloud used to be… well, close. And even with that advantage, we misjudged him, over and over. Wolf never made the choice we wanted him to." By now, her eyes were burning. "Right up to the moment he shot you down. You and Sly could have been killed!"

"But we weren't."

"You think that makes me feel better? More dumb luck."

"No," said Nick. "Dumb skill. Sly handled it. He was amazing, frankly."

She scoffed. "At least one of us has a handle on things…"

Nick waited a moment, then offered her a smile. "I know it could've gone better," he said softly. "But believe me. I'm fine."

"I know." She rubbed her eyes. "I know you're fine. Everyone's… _fine_. We're surviving. But with the scale of this threat, surviving's not good enough. We need to be at a higher standard!" She sighed, quiet. " _I_ need to be."

"Even the great Carmelita Fox second-guesses herself, huh?"

"It's…" She averted her eyes. "It's less about me, and more about everybody else."

"Wow," said Nick. "Very inspiring."

"No, that's-!" Carmelita cringed. "…That's the exact problem. Listen. I believe in you and Judy, you know I do. But there's no escaping the fact you're both inexperienced for this kind of operation."

"No argument here," said Nick quietly.

"And the Cooper Gang is a huge asset, but…" Her hand balled into a tight fist. "Every time I talk to Sly, I say the wrong thing. Everything we've been through together, and I can't…!"

The thought died in the air.

"And!" Her voice was rising now. "When I saw McCloud was involved, I thought we'd have back-up! Full, organized support to handle this! And instead…" The heat died off again, leaving embers. "Everybody you listed… that's _everybody_. The seven of us have to save the world. Alone."

"…But that's not really it, is it?"

Carmelita dragged her gaze back to him. His smirk was gone. Instead, she saw something sharp in his eyes. Calculating. Not cold, exactly. Just objective.

She had grown too used to him as a nervous junior officer. He had skills she didn't. And for the first time, he was turning them on her.

"Being cut off isn't ideal," he continued, "but it's not like we're a bunch of rookies. I'm the least experienced person, and I've already survived Andross just fine. And with the Cooper Gang - whose whole thing is taking down dangerous maniacs using a small, talented team - we can definitely work something out."

"I admire your optimism," said Carmelita coldly.

He chuckled. "Yeah. That's me. Nick Wilde, irrepressible optimist. No, Madame Inspector, I'm quite the opposite. You can trust my judgement; we at least have a _shot_ at turning this around." His eyes didn't waver. "So what's really bugging you?"

A part of Carmelita wanted to end the conversation. She normally would never tolerate someone looking at her like this. But this situation wasn't normal. And neither was Nick.

Of everyone here, he was her best choice to tell.

"…I'm not a leader."

He just watched her. There was no protest, no immediate shower of praise. She knew she would have gotten that from Judy or Murray. From Sly. But those green eyes were steady. They just watched her. And she continued.

"As a senior Interpol officer, I'm expected to, uh… lead by example. To run operations with a team, even a small one, answering to me. And I did have some good experiences. There's a mercenary unit out there somewhere who remember me fondly. I remember them fondly too. They were good men."

He cracked out a smirk. "Maybe you're more merc than cop, deep down."

"You say that as a joke," she spat, "but it's probably true. Those men made sense to me. We took on dangerous threats together, and the only thing that made me different was that I was the one standing at the front."

"Bet you were the scariest, too…"

She scoffed. "That's all I am. Some barbarian. I just try to aim myself in the right direction."

Carmelita took a second before speaking again. Nick calmly gave it to her.

"But when it comes to actual supervision, the kind of 'senior officer' stuff I'm expected to do… I-" She growled. "I thought I was getting better! You and Judy, and Max and Sasha, and Benjamin… I thought I was getting a handle on it."

"You were." His eyes narrowed. "Did something happen?"

"Yes. Right before we all left Zootopia, I dragged Max and Sasha along to the prison, to check on Sly. And they didn't understand why-"

"Of course…"

"And Sasha questioned me, and I handled it poorly." She glared into empty space. "And now neither of them trust me. I'm sure of it."

"Sorry to hear that." Sympathetic, but not pitying. "But Fangmeyer isn't a baby. Neither is Wolford. I'm sure you'll salvage your professional relationship."

"I'm not," she replied. "I don't have a lot of certainty when it comes to… relationships. Even professional ones. And I know," she said suddenly, "that seems - I don't know. Unlikely. I know I give the impression I'm always certain of everything."

"More than I do, that's for sure."

"But it's-" She hissed. "It's not just Max and Sasha. I'm making the wrong choices with everyone."

"'Everyone'?" he said. "Or someone in particular?"

He could read her like a book. It was disconcerting. "Sly," she admitted. "He's… Have you been talking to him lately?"

"Are you kidding? I barely managed to slip away to find you. What about him?"

"You…" Carmelita felt a sudden rush of paranoia. "You haven't noticed?"

He caught it. "When I was talking to him," he said steadily, "we were both riding high from the escape. That, and we haven't seen each other in months."

She saw those eyes shift again. No, deepen. The same cold focus, even more serious.

"Why? What's he been doing?"

"Nothing. Yet. But…" She sighed. Slowly. "Clockwerk killed his parents."

"Yeah. I read his file."

"And I thought he had moved on. He's normally reliable… It's why I trusted him during the Phantasm incident. I don't even remember him being that angry when he first confronted Clockwerk. He was composed, like always. But it's the… The _repetition_ is getting to him. He told me he's afraid it's a cycle that won't stop until he dies." She glared. "He told me what he's going to do to Andross."

Nick easily filled the gaps from her tone, the rusting iron in her voice. "I see. Big talk, Cooper, considering…"

"What?"

"Sorry, just thinking aloud," he said. "I'll keep an eye on him. And talk to him, if I get a chance."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Not at all." He smirked again. It was colder. "After all, I want to talk about _you_. It sounds like Sly is a big part of the problem, but if that was the only issue, you would've solved it by now. Am I right?"

He was. "No."

Nick laughed. "So that's it? Your boyfriend gets a little edgier and suddenly you forget all your tactical training?"

She rubbed her temples. "Please just leave me to my food."

"Hate to disobey you, but I'd rather not. I feel like we're close."

"Close to _what?_ There's no mystery here. It's just… That sense of connection escapes me. Talking to people, mentoring them or whatever. I can't seem to do it." She hissed a sigh. "It's how it's always been."

"Ever since your first partner, right?"

Carmelita's blood went cold.

Her ears flicked back as she met Nick with a glare. The glare that came out whenever she was surprised.

"What do you know about her?"

"I know she's why you have this aversion to partnership," he said plainly. "Back in the Nope Diamond case, the morning me and Carrots had our, ah… disagreement. You wanted to help, but said you didn't have much positive experience. You said your best partnerships were functional, and in your worst, you had been betrayed and framed for a crime."

"Oh." She forced herself to relax. "I forgot I told you that."

"I have a good memory for conversations. Especially major details like that." He smirked. "Besides, the night before, you had very embarrassingly reminded me how you read my file cover to cover. You think I never returned the favour? Read up a little on the woman who provides me with so much inspiration and also a healthy amount of fear?"

She didn't reply.

"I don't know everything," he added. "And I'd like to hear your own thoughts on what happened. I think it might be helpful."

Carmelita rolled her eyes. "I doubt it."

"I get it, I get it." His voice was soft. Placating. "If it's too difficult to talk about, that's totally-"

" _Constable Neyla,_ " she began, levelling a vicious glare which was met with an innocent smile, "was the worst kind of cop. No interest in justice. She only wanted power, and scum like that should never be given a badge."

He nodded, sombre.

"I still don't know what my superiors were expecting. Neyla was offered a position for how competently she could manipulate her university classmates." Her lip curled. "Can you believe that? Hired to a law enforcement agency because of skills like that?"

"I, uh, can," said Nick, finally showing a sliver of his anxious self, "because that's exactly what happened with me…?"

"No. It isn't." Carmelita met his gaze. "You were hired after saving the city, and even then, you went through the Academy. You could have failed at any point, if you hadn't shown such talent."

"Thanks?"

"Neyla was basically given a free ride. And after _everything_ I had done, all my work to become one of the youngest Inspectors in Interpol's history, I was the one to suffer for it."

"Did she work with you for long?"

"Felt like an eternity," she muttered. "I was fine by myself. But a superior - who I now know was _also_ corrupt - twisted my arm. For weeks, Neyla trailed after me like a rude teenager. Second-guessing my plans, insulting my intelligence… and never out loud. That was the worst part. It was all implied. Plausible deniability. Until finally…" She closed her eyes. "She put me out of my misery. She ruined my life, and Sly's, with one underhanded move. Got close to both of us just to stab us in the back."

"And do you think you've internalised the negative outcome of that incident?"

Carmelita blinked. She had gotten lost in angry memories. And now this conversation had very much gotten away from her.

He saw her hesitate. "Sorry. That was needlessly fancy language. Let me rephrase: did the mean girl _huwt youw feewings~?_ "

She snarled. "Officer Wilde-!"

"Oh, let's drop that pretence." His voice went from lilting singsong to unbending stone in an instant. "You're right about one thing, Carmelita: we're alone out here. I'm not following your lead because you're an Inspector and I'm an Officer. I'm doing it because I respect your judgement. Or I'm trying to." He met her gaze, glare for glare. "So please, answer the question: is it all Neyla's fault? Or does it go deeper?"

"Of course it goes deeper!" she snapped. "We both know that's how these things are. It's never as simple as one bad day."

"But we both know," he said, "that one bad day can do a lot of damage."

Silence settled between them. Carmelita took a breath. Nick didn't seem to even need that much. It unnerved her, seeing him so poised, so focused.

He would have appreciated the irony. Carmelita Fox, afraid of Nick Wilde.

"What are you doing, Nick?" Her voice was quiet. "What's with this interrogation?"

"You could call it selfish," he said. "No-one wants to be led into a suicide mission by someone who Kinda Has A Lot Going On Right Now, Sorry. Although you and I both know I'm not the best at showing healthy levels of self-interest." He smiled thinly. "Certainly hasn't escaped my therapist."

"That's it." Her mouth curled. "You think you're qualified to lecture me now, do you? A few hours working on your mental health and you're better than me?"

"No. That's not it, either."

There was nothing ironic in his eyes. The cold objectivity was gone, too.

"The truth is… you're my friend. And I don't like seeing you upset."

"Oh."

Silence hung for a moment. Thick and heavy.

And then Carmelita buried her face in her hands.

"Whoa, hey-!" Nick tensed, looking her over. Her shoulders were shaking. But she wasn't crying. Just about.

"This," she hissed, "is _exactly_ what I'm talking about!"

Nick opened his mouth to say something. Then he closed it. He was out of his depth - dear god, he had almost brought Carmelita Fox to _tears_ \- and all he could do now was be with her.

"Everything has to be an attack," she hissed. "Everything is some backhanded statement about my gender, or my species, or my age, or all three. Because the idea of someone helping me is just… _alien_. Do you know how much help I got as the youngest student admitted to Sleuth Academy? How often my coworkers lent a hand to someone who, to them, was just an uppity kid with a badge?" Her fangs came out. "It wasn't much, Nick! I got here by _myself!_ "

Nick didn't reply. But only because he knew it wasn't the right time. He stayed there, sitting across from her. Giving her the outlet she needed.

"Maybe that's it," she said finally. "The reason I'm so bad at leadership. I didn't learn anything from example. I'm… self-taught. And this is a skill I can't force."

Her hands came down, but her head still felt heavy on her shoulders. Her eyes were firmly on the table.

"I should talk to Fox about taking over," she said. "Or Bentley. Or _dios_ , even Sly, he's got the charisma for it…" She hissed a sigh. "Just not me. I never should have pretended I was in charge here."

"Don't be dumb," said Nick, frankly. Calmly.

His voice was even. She could tell he meant every word he said.

"Me and Carrots, the Cooper Gang, Fox… we're all used to a particular kind of leadership. Cops, and a military pilot, and thieves. _Thieves!_ There should be zero cohesion in this weird little group. But we have one thing in common." His eyes didn't waver. "We all trust you."

She met his gaze. "… _Why?_ "

"Because you're Carmelita Fox. Duh."

He treated her to a smile.

"You conquered a difficult profession at a young age _and_ as a member of a maligned species - you are literally Judy Hopps' version of Judy Hopps - and now you turn around and tell me that's _bad?_ And they call me a pessimist!"

That got a chuckle out of her, but it was quiet, shaky, borne of surprise. He grew a little more solemn.

"I get it. I do. Even someone as amazing as you can't master everything. I, for instance," he said, twirling his wrist to lay three fingers on his chest, "cannot take down a huge criminal by doing a backflip. That is something I am very happy to delegate to you and Carrots."

He leaned a little closer.

"But sometimes, we find ourselves relying on skills we haven't polished. I've been thrown into combat situations by myself sometimes. Carrots, for reasons that truly defy explanation, is still allowed to do live interviews. When will we learn?"

Another timid chuckle, slightly stronger this time.

"And now you, the powerful yet icy Inspector Fox, must lead a pack of weird idiots." His smile was warm and genuine. "Weird idiots who trust you."

"I… appreciate the vote of confidence. But this isn't working. Treating it as an Interpol operation isn't…"

"Then stop." His sagely smile dipped, briefly, into a tired frown. "Doing it that way, I mean. Not in general."

He stood, and she watched cautiously as he circumnavigated the table.

"I'll say it again. This isn't a question of rank. We don't trust you because you're an Inspector."

Nick laid a hand on her shoulder. It was as warm as his smile.

"We trust you because you're you."

"Simple as that, huh…?" She averted her gaze. "If I struggle with junior officers, what makes you think it'll be any easier to order around my friends?"

"Only one way to find out."

She considered that for a while. As Nick retrieved his hand, she spoke. Suddenly. Eyes forward. "Nick."

"Yeah?"

"I want a hug."

He blinked. Her tone had been so matter-of-fact. "You… do?"

"If we're friends, instead of a superior and junior officer," she said, firmly, like she was outlining tactics, "I would like a hug. Because I'm scared."

"Oh. Uh, sure."

His wise demeanour wobbled, but he followed through. He had to. He wrapped his arms around her, and she did the same, and for a moment they just held each other.

She was still. Part of him wondered if she was getting anything out of this. But then, he saw it. Something that tugged his mouth into a silent smile. He wouldn't embarrass her by pointing it out.

Her tail, spilling out of the back of the chair, had begun to softly wag.

After a few moments, she took a breath, and released him. He pulled back. "Feeling any better?"

Carmelita sat there. He watched those brown eyes. And slowly, she melted into a sheepish smile. "A little."

"Good! Because there's plenty more where that came from. Carrots is at a real loose end right now. She would be over the _moon_ if you ordered her to supply you hugs. Total career highlight."

He didn't sit. These things took time. If Carmelita was anything like him, she'd need space.

"I mean it," he murmured. "We're here for you, Madame Inspector. All of us. You just need to ask."

Carmelita nodded slowly. "Duly noted."

Nick casually reclaimed his apple. He'd eat it outside.

"…Hey, Nick?"

He turned, meeting her gentle smile. "Carmelita?"

"No. Not 'Carmelita'. What was it you were calling me?"

Nick blinked. "…'Madame Inspector'?"

"That's it." Her smile strengthened. "I like that."

"Well," he said softly. "I guess we've finally found your nickname. And the fact it's technically not even a nickname feels… oddly fitting."

She laughed at that. A full, proper laugh. For Nick, it was a rare and glorious victory. He had almost never heard her laugh. It was pleasant, musical.

When she met his gaze again, her eyes were warm. "Thank you. I think I needed that."

"Hey. Just scoring Positive Interaction points for my therapy journal." She could tell the joke was ceremonial. A capstone, indicating normal service was about to resume.

They held each other's gaze for a moment. Finally - lazily - Nick pointed back over his shoulder.

"That's it for me."

He drifted over to the door, his smile still meeting hers.

"If we're staying the night here, I'm checking out the beds. If you find Carrots sleeping on my tail, pry her off."

"Copy that."

With that, he exited, his smile leaving last. Carmelita sat there for a moment. Smiling to herself.

She turned her attention back to her food.


	15. Not the Time For Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18:52

* * *

Clawhauser crept through a dark alley. Shadows looming around him like long mouths.

This was bad.

His heart was in his throat, but he had to keep moving. Stay on target. People were counting on him. He-

A knife flew past his face.

He recoiled with a yelp. The blade had almost severed one of his whiskers. But as it embedded into the crumbling brick wall, he knew it had missed him deliberately. This wouldn't be quick. His attacker intended to draw this out.

With wide, fearful eyes, he looked to the mouth of the alley. There was a figure there. One Clawhauser recognized, even though he had never met him. There was no uncertainty, no mistaking those jagged gashes in the rabbit's ears.

William Afton, the killer who wished to be known as Springtrap, glared at Clawhauser with dark little eyes. "I _always_ come back."

"You…!" Clawhauser stared at him - the scars, the teeth, the gleaming knives in both hands. "But – but you died! And then you burnt up in a big fire! I had to read the autopsy report it was gross!"

"Oh, Benji." Another voice entered the night. "Always so naïve, and slow, and overweight."

He whirled around. There, sauntering towards him from what was definitely a dead end, was a familiar ewe. Glasses glowing in the half-light.

"If everyone else gets a shot at revenge, why not us?" said Bellwether. "Denying us that just because we died would be discrimination."

"Oh, that's a good point," breathed Clawhauser. "But I thought ghosts weren't real."

"You thought _wrong,"_ hissed Afton.

"I thought the entire lesson from the last thing was that ghosts aren't real."

"You thought _wrong,"_ hissed Afton.

Clawhauser balled his fists, reading himself. "I - I can do this! Even if it's you! I have to-"

"Benji, Benji, Benji," tutted Bellwether. "You'll never match up to Nick and Judy. They're just better and smarter and more interesting than you'll ever be. And besides," she sneered, "those are some awfully big words from someone with _no pants._ "

"I - what?!" Clawhauser looked down reflexively, and was met with a wave of embarrassment at the sight of his own bespotted legs. And in that moment of distraction, Afton threw a knife at his head.

He barely noticed in time, and it was all he could do to stand there and-

Clawhauser snorted, arms flailing. Fangmeyer was gently shaking his shoulder.

"Easy, buddy. You looked like you were having a nightmare."

"That's all it was." Clawhauser heaved a sigh of relief. "A nightmare. Of course."

The orange hue of twilight mingled nicely with Fangmeyer's fur. "You alright?"

"I don't usually sleep this early in the day, so that might've been it…" Clawhauser rubbed his eyes. "Other than that… just under a lot of stress, I guess."

"Yeah." Fangmeyer gently squeezed his shoulder, giving him a smile. "But you're doing great. You're an inspiration to us all."

"Awh, thanks…!"

Clawhauser pulled himself into a sitting position.

"Where's Wolford?"

The tiger's eyes dimmed. Face ashen. For a moment, there was a terrible silence. "Benji…"

"What?"

"Wolford died _three years ago_."

"What?!" Clawhauser froze. "But – I–!"

Fangmeyer burst into a merciless grin. "I'm pulling your tail, he's in the bathroom."

"Oh…!" Clawhauser deflated. "I hate you, Sasha."

"Awwh, I've _always_ wanted to try that!"

* * *

Tai Lung sneered at the sign. Loud. Outlandish. Nauseatingly colourful. Just like everything else in this carnival of a city.

_Red Like Roses  
_ _**THE SECRET HIDING PLACE OF NICK WILDE AND JUDY HOPPS!** _

He remembered this bar, inconsequential as it was. He remembered watching from a rooftop as those three wretches - hyenas? yes, hyenas - had gotten themselves arrested. One failure among many during the Nope Diamond incident. The idiocy of those around him.

His new coworkers weren't much smarter. But they were much less annoying, and he was thankful for that.

"Maintain a perimeter," he said into the small remote he had been issued, and the owl drones complied. Some remained at ground level, standing guard in the empty street, while others hovered above and nearby the squat red building. They would await his next order. He intended to investigate personally.

He knocked. Loudly.

His ear flicked as he caught a perky voice from inside. An instant later the door swung open.

"Welcome to-!"

The wolf's silver eyes widened and her pointed ears fell. He scanned her briefly. Youngish. Dark fur and a darker dress.

He met her horrified stare with a grin.

"Good evening."

He shouldered past her. The only other occupant was a black bobcat behind the bar, wearing a black waistcoat and an almost identical expression; golden eyes wide, ears pinned back. Tai Lung looked around with a bright smile.

"Still open, eh? Despite the slow business?"

" _We-_ " The wolf coughed, reclaiming her voice. "We didn't want to just sit home and worry. And we thought we could offer our usual service to anyone who felt the same." She met his gaze with something that looked an awful lot like defiance. "We aren't the kind of people to just ignore a crisis."

"How noble," he purred. "But it seems your fellow citizens don't share that sentiment."

"Maybe not yet." The bobcat's voice was quieter, but had the same tone.

He just shrugged. "Well, it hardly makes much difference to me. I get the impression you know who I am? What my _capacity_ is in the new regime?"

They both just watched him. His grin grew.

"That seems like a yes. Which is curious," he added, "considering that's not quite public knowledge yet."

He took a step closer to the wolf. Her glare sharpened.

"You wouldn't happen to have received some kind of _warning_ , did you?" he said. "Did anyone - a wolf, a tiger, and a portly little cheetah, perhaps - stop by to tell you I might pay a visit?"

He stalked closer, and her lips moved back in a snarl. " _Ruby_ …" came the bobcat's voice.

"It's fine, Blake," she said, catching herself. "Everything's fine."

She met Tai Lung's gaze. Calmly.

"To answer your question… it's like you said. We haven't gotten any customers so far today. We can show you the security footage to prove it."

He just shrugged. "If you say so."

Tai Lung pulled back, nonchalant, moving with the grace of a swan and all the huge, malevolent power of a battleship. He took in the empty booths. The rear entrance, closed and locked. He kept prowling, past the bar and into the kitchen in the back. Nice and easy.

"I'm just doing my due diligence," he said. He didn't turn, but he knew they followed him. He could feel their eyes on his back. "I've been informed that your friends Hopps and Wilde are, ah…"

He turned, leisurely, and gave them a big smile.

"…no longer with us."

Tai Lung let that intentionally vague phrasing sit for a moment, but their expressions didn't change. He shrugged again.

"All the same, they and their ilk have captured my employer's attention. We expect a certain amount of misguided… resistance."

He was in the right position now. Not that he would show it, keeping his voice measured and his smile calm.

"I've been tasked with handling things before anything _unwise_ develops. Just a matter of finding the mayor, really. I'm only here to strike this location off the list. I'm sure two innocent young women such as yourselves have no-"

And then Tai Lung sprang up, savouring the split-second view of a startled Ruby and Blake before his fist punched through the trapdoor.

He unfolded gracefully, landing on all fours in the bar's attic. Window, bed, door to roof. …Empty. He searched the loft, but there was nowhere here that could conceal a rabbit, let alone a goat. No-one under the bed or fleeing to the roof.

Tai Lung tried to mask his disappointment as he dropped back down to the kitchen.

"There," he said. "As I suspected. No fugitives."

"We could've **told** you-!" Ruby stopped herself, trailing into a growl. Tai Lung merely smiled.

He walked past them, out into the bar and towards the front door. "Thank you for your time, citizens," he said, waving a huge paw. "Have a _lovely_ day."

As he went to leave, Tai Lung caught their expressions. Wary. Tired.

"Oh, come now." He grinned. "You needn't look so put out. I know we're in a period of… _transition_ , but I am assured the end justifies the means. We're making history here, after all."

"Hardly," said Blake. Her voice was even. "The notion that democracy is untenable because average people can't be trusted with serious issues actually dates back to antiquity. Some of the earliest political philosophers believed that executive power should be exclusively held by an educated elite. Populism is dangerous, sure; the last few years have made that very obvious. But a top-down hegemony enforced through violence is the worst possible solution. Andross thinks that styling himself as apolitical will minimise pushback, but instead, it's left him open to opposition from all angles. I'd say it's his brand of totalitarianism, not democracy, that's actually untenable."

Tai Lung stared.

He blinked.

Twice.

"I," said Ruby, "am inclined to agree. With that… assessment."

Tai Lung recovered, shooting a glare. "Well, don't print any leaflets and we won't have a problem."

"Sure," said Blake.

Tai Lung turned, maneuvering his shoulders through the front door. He slammed it behind him.

And like that, he was gone.

"Blakeyou'rereallysmart."

"Thanks. I just read a lot."

Ruby sidled up to the window, making sure he was really leaving. Tai Lung took something out of his big dumb coat and spoke into it. A moment later, the drones on the street all took off. He did the same, stalking off down an alleyway. She watched carefully for any cool acrobatics - she had heard he generally liked to travel via rooftop - but he didn't seem to be in the mood.

When he disappeared from sight, she let out a breath.

"Speaking of being smart… Nick and Judy sure aren't here."

"They did tell us as much when they agreed to that sign." Blake was already back behind the bar. "It's just a way to waste the time of jerks like that guy. We're lucky they still come for drinks."

Ruby drifted over to the bar. "It sounded like he was just messing with us… They're probably okay. Right?"

Blake paused. She wasn't an optimistic cat. "…This situation could be a lot worse. Don't worry too much. Not yet."

"Okay…"

Ruby's fang worried her lip. She looked out the window, onto the street. The city.

"Then-"

* * *

"Where **are** they?!"

Wolford rubbed his eyes. The workbench was covered with radios, some half-disassembled. The walls were covered with maps, most bearing scrawled notes. His fur was ruffled.

He was tired.

Unlike Clawhauser, he hadn't opted to get any sleep. He had thought coffee and anxiety alone could fuel him. It didn't seem to be working.

"How's it going?"

Fangmeyer came in behind him, whacking the door shut with a hip. Wolford gratefully noticed the fresh mug in each orange paw. "Thank you…"

As he took his, Fangmeyer glanced around the room. "You're, uh… making great use of the space."

He cringed. "Yeah. And nothing to show for it."

They had set up in a disused garage, because Fangmeyer had claimed to 'know just the place', because that was the kind of thing Fangmeyer would sometimes say and Wolford would just need to deal with. His partner was a mammal of mystery. Right now he was more grateful than anything. They needed every advantage they could get.

Wolford indicated the pile of tech he had been buried in. "I was trying that plan I explained in the car…"

"Which I definitely understood," said Fangmeyer, impassively, into the mug.

Wolford paused for a second. "So," he said, starting over, "there's a way to triangulate the position of police radios."

"Okay, sure."

"And I've been doing that. It's hard, with the blackout, but I've got a few hits. Sometimes it filters down into the sewers and I get a _bunch_ of feedback all at once, from where the rest of the ZPD is holed up…"

"I wonder if McHorn has beaten Johnson to death yet," mused Fangmeyer.

"…and sometimes I get one, maybe two hits on the surface, which correspond to more remote ZPD precincts."

"Other Clawhausers," nodded Fangmeyer. "Even if ninety-nine percent of us are stuck down there, there'd have to be more outliers than just us."

"Exactly. But I don't think there's much point trying to marshall together the, uh, other Clawhausers yet. Not until we have more of a plan. So I have been _**trying**_ ," he said, with a full-bodied, two-handed gesture that spilled a little of his coffee, "to locate the slightly different wavelength of Carmelita's Interpol radio. If I picked up that, with two regular ZPD signatures, I'd know it was her and Nick and Judy."

"And you've got nothing."

"I've checked every district," said Wolford. "And I've double - no, _triple_ -checked my methodology and equipment. But I just can't find them. I don't know how to break it to Ben, but…" His voice was quiet. "I think they're gone."

"Just to be clear," said Fangmeyer, "you mean 'gone' as in 'outside of the city'. Because you're just looking for their radios, so you wouldn't be able to tell if they're, y'know… _gone_."

He didn't reply.

"Max?"

"This is really bad, Sasha," he said to the floor.

After a pause, Sasha drifted over. "I don't disagree. But I see at least one silver lining…"

Wolford's face was gently but firmly angled back up by one powerful paw. Those deep green eyes glinted down at him. That low voice rumbled.

"You look _very_ cute with your fur all messy."

Despite himself, Max felt himself smile - even his tail reacted, wagging weakly. For a moment, everything that had been weighing on him - the radios piled on his desk, and the panicking city he had been scanning - melted away. Just for a moment. He had a warm mug in his hand, and a warmer paw under his chin.

Then the door opened.

"Hi guys…"

Clawhauser didn't look up from his phone. He was frowning.

"I hope you're having better luck than me…"

Max expected Sasha to pull back quickly. There had been one or two awkward moments like this back at the precinct. But they weren't at the precinct any more. They had exactly one colleague left, and he was the accommodating type. Sasha's paw moved, but it didn't go far, settling comfortably on Max's shoulder. He was thankful for it.

"Still no luck with Chitter?" said Fangmeyer, casually sipping coffee.

Clawhauser shook his head. "I mean, there's the usual problems - everything goes dead, and then there's a whole bunch of posts all at once - but even when I get access, I don't think anybody's seen them. And if they have, they're not posting about it, which is smart since Tai Lung's looking for the three of them too…"

He finally looked up. And blinked.

"Are… are you guys…?"

"Yep," smirked Fangmeyer.

"How long have you…?"

"Oh, like…" Wolford smiled sheepishly. "A while."

"A good long while," purred Fangmeyer.

"Oh wow! That's…!" Clawhauser smoothed his fur a little. "I mean, I feel like I should've picked up on it sooner…!"

Fangmeyer shrugged. "We existed in this ambiguous space for a long time. I don't blame you for not noticing we made it official."

"I'm glad you did! I'm…" His smile faded a little, but didn't dim. "I'm glad we still have stuff to celebrate. You guys gotta hold on to each other, alright?"

"Believe me, that's the plan." Sasha's paw gave Max a playful squeeze. "Good and tight."

"Let's not get distracted," coughed Wolford, who was now trying to hide the motions of his tail. "We still haven't-"

A window shattered.

They all reacted with flawless speed. Fangmeyer fell into a fighting stance, moving to protect Wolford, who in turn easily slipped into the tiger's shadow. Clawhauser, for his part, managed to not drop his phone.

A drone had gotten its head and one arm through the window. It shrieked, partly in what seemed like frustration.

"Son of a-!" Fangmeyer's ears pinned back. "Where'd you come from?!"

"We're blown." Wolford hurried to gather as much of his equipment as he could. "I - I was worried that sending out all those radio pulses might draw their attention-"

"Don't beat yourself up, Max, just move!"

Fangmeyer's eyes never left the drone, but it left the window. They could still hear it outside.

"Let's go, boys!"

Clawhauser rushed over to help Wolford before he dropped a particularly bulky machine. "Where are we going?!"

"Not here!"

Ears up, eyes sharp, Fangmeyer unlocked their cruiser - parked a few feet away, facing out into the street, ready for this exact moment. The garage shutter stayed down. The window was enough of a liability.

Clawhauser helped Wolford load up the essentials - this radio network was still their best shot of communicating under Andross' blackout. They channeled their fear into brisk, urgent movement. The noises outside were only getting louder.

"How much of this do you need?" said Clawhauser.

Wolford, professional though he was, couldn't quite hide the whine in his voice. "I… suppose what we have in the car already is sufficient, but this piece-"

"Is the last thing we've time to take!" called Fangmeyer from the cruiser. The shutter rattled. Loudly. "Get in!"

They did, slamming the trunk shut and wedging the last armful of electronics between them in the backseat. Fangmeyer revved the engine, claws clicking against the steering wheel.

"Oh, wait," frowned Clawhauser. "Who's gonna open the-?"

The shutter ripped open, as the drone stabbed its claws through the thin metal and tore off a chunk.

" **They are!** " said Fangmeyer. And drove.

Wolford had gained an immense appreciation for seatbelts in recent years. This was why.

The cruiser lurched as it punched its way through the opening, thick wheels tearing over the drone. Clawhauser and Wolford and all Wolford's equipment heaved and wobbled, but they were clear.

The drone stayed down. They saw through the rear-view mirror as it lay there on the road, lightly sparking, a lucky twist of the car's wheel crunching something vital. But they could also see the dark figures in the cold twilight. It had called friends.

Fangmeyer hissed a curse. "I'll try to shake them… but now that I'm out of cool action movie lines, one of you needs to pick an actual place to go. That garage was my best idea."

"All I can think of is places we _can't_ go…" said Wolford, rubbing his neck. "It'd be easy to look up our home addresses, and anywhere ZPD-related isn't safe either. We have to do what Wilde did. Pick places that don't seem obvious."

"And then what? Wait for them to find us there, too?"

"No," said Clawhauser.

His voice sounded quiet, even to him. But he kept going. And they listened.

"This isn't working. Those things are all over the city. If we try to hide, we'll just waste time."

"Then, what?" Fangmeyer swerved onto a highway, gunning the engine and watching the skies. "We _don't_ try to hide?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I think, whatever we do…"

Clawhauser had begun to fidget with his tail.

"…we have to work it out by ourselves. Carmelita's not coming back."

"Buddy," said Wolford, after a moment's hesitation, "she's probably… I'm sure she's…!"

"It's okay, Max. You don't have to sugarcoat it. You told me that if I couldn't find them, no-one could. I trust your radio stuff the same way."

Wolford just nodded.

The sombre atmosphere wobbled a little when Fangmeyer yanked the car back off the highway, just as suddenly, and brought the cruiser quietly into a tunnel. No drones. "So if we don't have Carmelita," said Fangmeyer, eyes on the road, "or Nick and Judy, what exactly does that mean?"

"It means…"

Clawhauser let go of his tail. He took a breath. And he sat up as straight as he could.

"We come up with our own plan."


	16. The Wacky World of Online Relationships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 19:20

* * *

There was a lot on Bentley's mind.

There always was. But right now, he was facing a huge volume of work. The others all had their skills. Carmelita and Wilde and Hopps were all able investigators. But there were no suspects to interrogate, no forensic clues to examine. Just a computer system that wouldn't give up its secrets without a fight.

It all fell to him, now.

He had set up in the security room and run his standard procedures. After the first few failures, he had begun running a reliable program which would slowly pick at the firewall by trial-and-error. It was hard to say how long it would be before he got real results, but it was his best plan for the moment. The direct approach had only produced scraps.

But they were very worrying scraps. Fragments of blueprints and manuals and plans that gave Bentley pause. That was rare, after so many years contending with the worst uses a sharp mind could be put to. But some of this material was truly troubling. A single device that could bottleneck all communications? A seemingly limitless supply of robotic shock troops? Notes from Clockwerk himself?

Bentley was glad he didn't have to face this alone.

"Hey, Specs?"

He stifled a sigh. He actually did kind of need to be alone right now, though.

Rubbing his eyes, he looked up from his laptop. Nick had found him, bringing along Fox and his omnipresent smile.

"What is it?"

"Sorry to interrupt, but Carmelita wanted us to check in on you. Specifically, whether you've eaten anything in the past, like… day."

"Right." Bentley frowned at them. "On reflection, I haven't."

"Oh!" said Fox.

They stood there. He sat there.

"Do you," said Nick finally, "want us to get you something, or…?"

"No." Bentley caught himself. "I suppose a _quick_ break might help. Is there food here?"

"Uh, sorta. Mess hall's that way."

Nick indicated a direction with a casual nod. But there was nothing casual about the way he was watching Bentley.

"You alright?"

Bentley reached under his glasses to rub his eyes. "I'm just feeling the _strain_ of being the only person here with a technological specialisation. We still haven't determined Andross' location, let alone the size or nature of his forces. There's a lot of questions and very little data. And…"

Nick raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And we're doing badly! We only managed to rescue you because some unknown party sent me the security codes."

"Oh, yes!" said Fox. "I remember that. You seemed very worried about getting help…"

"Because I didn't ask for it!" Bentley turned to Nick. "Wilde, you're a sensible man, so please back me up on this: if a faceless internet stranger showed up and offered you exactly what you needed, how would you feel?"

"Extremely suspicious."

" _Thank_ you!"

"I still don't understand," said Fox. "Andross needs to be stopped. Anyone who helps us do that has to be on our side. Right?"

Nick laughed heartily. "Oh, my sweet summer pup," he said, patting the shorter fox on the shoulder. "Had we met earlier in life, the bridges I could've sold you…"

"You used to work in civil engineering?"

"Lieutenant McCloud," said Bentley, "I'll put this bluntly. On the internet, it is extremely easy to lie."

"People do that?!" said Fox, alarmed.

"…Yes. And for that reason, you should never assume anything about who you're talking to. Especially in our line of work."

"Ha ha," said Nick, "like that time I thought I was going crazy, and you and Sly found me an 'expert' to talk to, and it turned out to be a nine-year-old child."

"Exactly. And that's a comparatively _benign_ example of what I'm talking about." Bentley folded his arms. "This 'Krystal' character could be a double agent, or a fake persona, or even a former enem-"

Fox's ears perked. "Did you say 'Krystal'? With a K? That's my friend!"

Bentley blinked. "You… What?"

"Krystal is my friend from the internet! She helped me out before."

"So you know who she is?!"

Fox paused. "I… know she's my friend!"

"That's a 'no'," murmured Nick.

"Tell me everything," said Bentley firmly.

"Well," said Fox, "my squadron and I have mostly just been testing various modifications to our Arwings. Our lead engineer is very funny! You'd like her, Nick, she-"

"Lieutenant," said Bentley, "I am begging you to stay focused."

"Oh, sure! So we weren't expecting any combat soon. But then I got this message from a lady calling herself Krystal. She told me that Andross was about to attack Zootopia. Lots of innocent people would be in danger."

"And you just took that at face value, huh?" said Nick.

"I had no reason not to. Besides, it was a secure channel! She only could have used it if she was someone I could trust."

Bentley did not have the time to explain how wrong that statement was. He just motioned Fox to continue.

"Now that you mention it, Lena and Poe were skeptical, too. But they let me plot our course for that day, and they didn't mind that I brought us close to Zootopia. Then our radios started glitching, and then we picked up something weird over the city, and, well…" He grinned. "You know the rest! Krystal was right."

"Oh, I see," said Nick. "I was kinda wondering how you guys showed up so quickly. It's because you had some warning?"

"That's right!"

"Is that all you can tell me?" said Bentley.

"Yep. That was the only time I spoke to Krystal. So far, anyway! She was very nice. I hope I can thank her."

Bentley frowned. "That… Well, that corroborates her claim that she's working against Andross. She knew about Clockwerk's attack before he arrived, and wanted resistance on the scene. But I'm not persuaded. There's not enough to go on, here. And I still can't find a trace of her anywhere!"

"Oh, no sweat," said Nick. "This whole conversation has jogged my memory. I actually know her too."

Bentley turned to him. "You do?"

"Of course. I know everybody. See, the reason you can't find our girl Krystal anywhere on the planet is that she's not _from_ this planet."

Bentley stared. Fox watched Nick, who continued.

"She's from Dinosaur Planet, the planet of the dinosaurs. That's her hometown. The old stompin' grounds." Nick's eyes, his tone, were perfectly steady. "It's super humid, so she just runs around in, like, this tribal bikini thing. Also she's psychic. She has psychic powers, which maybe helps with the hacking? Dunno. Hard to say if they're directly applicable. Still useful in general, of course. And she's blue. Bright blue. Very vivid shade." He stretched. "That's her. Krystal, the bright blue half-naked tribal princess psychic vixen. From Dinosaur Planet."

There was a terrible silence for several seconds. Then Fox spoke. "Wow! I'm glad she's on our side!"

"No!" yelled Bentley. "No, that was all – **no!!** He's _clearly_ lying!"

"Yeah," said Nick, "that was the most outlandish description I could come up with. I'm pretty proud of it. That was all off the top of my head, y'know."

Bentley clapped his laptop closed. "This has been an _enlightening_ discussion," he said, "but I'm leaving now."

"Yeah, that's fair," said Nick.

Fox gave him a little wave as Bentley wheeled out of the room.

He needed air. Well, he needed a lot more than that, but it would be a start. He didn't get far, though. As he left the security room, he almost rolled over Judy's foot.

"Oh, sorry! I-"

"No, no." She stepped back smartly. "My fault. Don't worry about it."

They lapsed into an awkward silence for a moment, and Bentley was about to excuse himself when she spoke again.

"…Trust is a powerful thing, y'know."

Bentley just raised an eyebrow.

"I overheard what you were saying. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but…" She shot a wry look to her ears. "Sorta hard not to."

"It's alright. I can use all the input I can get."

He began moving toward the mess hall, and she fell into step alongside him. "You really seem worried about this Krystal person," she noted.

"Well, I am. Me and the guys have - well, we've had bad experiences."

"If you don't mind me saying so, you kinda sound paranoid."

"I am."

"Oh…"

He paused. "Despite your reputation for idealism, you're no fool, Hopps."

"Thanks."

"And I know you have first-hand experience of what I'm talking about. Bellwether used you to further her own goals, didn't she?"

"Yep," said Judy, eyes forward. "Sure did."

"So am I really off-base here? It seems like common sense to me. But everyone else is looking at me like I'm crazy."

"I can see where you're coming from," she said. "But we're _seriously_ understaffed right now. There's, what? Seven of us? Carmelita hasn't gotten through to Interpol, Fox can't contact his superiors… I bet you've tried calling your own network of, uh, friends. But we're alone out here. We can't really afford to turn away a helping hand."

"No…"

"No, what?"

"No, we _haven't_ tried contacting other criminals." Bentley's voice sped up. "I found some data on the device behind the blackout - it's powerful, but not infallible. It'll be aimed at Zootopia, and at institutions like Interpol and the military, but outside of that…" He turned to her. "Can you show me your phone?"

"Oh, sure. I actually switched it off ages ago…"

The phone returned to life, slowly. It sat in her paw for a moment.

And then it buzzed. And buzzed. And buzzed.

Judy nearly dropped it as it continued to vibrate, building up an eye-watering volume of missed calls and voicemails and text messages, interspersed with various aimless notifications which popped up briefly before being swept away by the tide.

"Oh, jeepers!" Judy stared. "Most of these are from my parents!"

She frantically tapped the screen, and two equally frantic voices soon rattled through the phone's speaker.

_"Jude! It's, uh-"_

_"We've tried calling your fox friend and his phone is off too, y'know, so if you could just-"_

_"We know you're probably fine! You're always fine! But just in case you're not fine we would really appreciate-"_

_"You call us back this **instant** young lady!"_

Judy was already moving. "I should really, uh-!"

"Of course," said Bentley. "And thanks again for the help."

"I helped? I mean, uh, sure!"

With that, she took off, vanishing to some appropriately private corner. Her ears were tall with embarrassment, but he didn't see why. Must be nice, having people back home. Invested in whether or not you make it back.

Bentley shook his head. No time for melodrama. He still had to force himself to eat something - and the second he was done, he had a call to make.

* * *

It wasn't hard to track her down. After all, she didn't have a reason to hide any more. She had served her sentence.

There was always the chance of recidivism, of course. To wait out the jail term and go straight back to crime. But Bentley had noticed that former opponents of the Cooper Gang, for all their nefarious talents, had a tendency to stick to civilian life once freed. That made sense from a psychological perspective. Cooper Gang victories tended to be thorough.

That was why he wasn't surprised by her reaction.

There was little time for preamble. Bentley sent his initial messages in text form, but received no response, despite the communication program listing her status as _Online_. Based on her personality, he suspected she had just stepped away from her device, and needed a clearer summons. With a twinge of reluctance known well to nerds everywhere, Bentley activated the video call feature.

He didn't have to wait long. On the fourth ring, the call was answered. Though Bentley's connection was shaky, hers was strong, so there was little buffering until the video stream materialised. And a small lynx, too close to the camera, was squinting at him.

She screamed.

She did more than that, flailing backwards over her chair and crashing to the ground. Bentley had a good view of her workspace – a barn of some kind?

" **You!!!** " she shrieked. She was just as loud as he remembered. "The sins of my past have located my IP address!! _"_

Bentley sighed. "Please try to calm down."

Dorothy Perrault, online handle 'Peridot', looked much the same. She was still unusually short for a lynx. She was still yellow, with a taste for green clothing, as evidenced by her star-emblazoned t-shirt. Her ears were still pointy.

The main difference between now and their altercation years earlier was that she seemed far less tired.

Peridot pulled herself upright, and resumed squinting into her webcam. "What do you want, you… um… clod?" A familiar word in an unfamiliar context. She was clearly uncertain about the optimum level of hostility to show.

"Hello to you too," said Bentley. "Just to be clear, I come in peace. I have no interest in reigniting any antagonism."

"Oh." Peridot blinked under her yellow visor. She had obtained a newer, pointier one in the same colour. "You're really not mad I tried to kill your friends?"

"Please. You were barely a threat."

Peridot bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?! I was **very** intimidating!"

Bentley realised he could be doing a better job of not reigniting antagonism. "Uh, sorry – poor phrasing. It wasn't that you were inept, I could just tell your attempts to kill Sly were… fair! And sportsmanlike! You conducted yourself with honour, the way all truly great criminals do."

"Hmph!" Peridot folded her arms, satisfied. "Thanks for noticing! Only took ya a year and a half…"

She tilted her head. Judging from the fresh wobbles in her frown, curiosity was pushing through her fear and irritation.

"Which raises the obvious question: why now? What is it you want, exactly?"

"Time is short, so I'll get to it. Have you been following the Zootopia situation?"

"Oh jeez, yeah. The whole internet is buzzing about it. It's not entirely clear what's happening, since the city itself has gone dark."

"It has?"

"Ssssssorta?" she said. "As far as we can surmise, Zootopians are still using websites like Chitter, but their posts aren't making it out to the rest of us. Probably getting caught on the local servers or something… I've never seen anything like it. And that's not even _touching_ the robots. Whoever's behind this is…"

"Yeah," said Bentley. "We know."

"I don't envy the poor clods in that town. This is obviously very dangerous." She beamed. "I'm so glad I'm not involved!"

"…Well, I am."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" She squinted. "Doing what, exactly?"

"I'm helping a small team cut the problem off at the head before it gets any worse."

"Well, better be quick about it. Situations like these can spiral out of control. Before you know it - **BLAMMO!** " She slapped her desk for effect. "Some overpaid bureaucrat has decided to just nuke the whole city!"

"You watch too many action movies," said Bentley, but it was partly to convince himself.

"Again: super glad I'm not involved. So again: why are you bothering me?!"

"The thing is… Hackers of a certain reputation tend to know about each other, correct? For instance, I had heard about you prior to the Nope Diamond incident."

"Likewise."

"Have you ever heard somebody using the handle 'Krystal'?"

"Crystal like a gem?"

"Krystal with a K. Here…"

Bentley sent over a screenshot of his conversation, including the encryption algorithm in the username.

He watched Peridot frown at it. Finally, she shook her head.

"No, I can't say this is familiar."

He sighed. "That's exactly what I was worried you'd say."

Peridot took another look at the conversation itself. "Wait. This person isn't even trying to kill you! All they did was help you out. I assumed from how serious you look that you had gotten into a fight or something… Did you really call me just to see if I had heard of your new friend?"

Bentley's frown sharpened. "She is not my friend."

"Not with that attitude!"

"Oh, for the…" Bentley folded his arms. "People don't just come out of nowhere and help thieves take down other, worse criminals! There's always an ulterior motive. Heck, we were never that honorable - we got our start in revenge. The whole 'righting wrongs' thing just kind of stuck."

"Y'know, back when I did crimes," said Peridot, "I used to hear people wonder how the Cooper Gang got so successful if they bothered with justice and empathy and other wimpy ideas." She gave him a catlike smile. "It's because you were in charge, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't describe myself as 'in charge'. But… I suppose that's not inaccurate. I offer a certain _pragmatism_ , in contrast to Sly and Murray's more idealistic worldviews." He met her gaze, unamused. "And I think caution is warranted here, considering we've had enemies present themselves as friends before."

"Well," said Peridot, undaunted, "I no longer do crimes. And in my new life, I've come to understand and appreciate just how important friendship is. I'm great at it now! Ask anybody. I have **mastered** friendship."

"Uh huh."

"And by helping a former enemy, I can **_prove_ **that once and for all!" She cackled, rubbing her paws together. "I can rub this in the faces of all of my friends…"

Bentley was not about to question her logic. "Well, in that case… I don't suppose you've called the police lately?"

"Hah! No."

"We've had no luck making contact - we suspect their channels have been hit by the same thing that's blanketing Zootopia. But if you can somehow get a message to Chief Barkley of Interpol, and/or General Pepper of the air force, please tell them that Inspector Fox and Lieutenant McCloud are safe and alive at a location we believe used to be called Titania Air Base-"

"Hold on, hold on… this is a lot of names-" Peridot clacked one paw against her keyboard, taking notes. "And, what? You want backup?"

"We'd love backup, but we don't expect it. We've _resigned_ ourselves to doing this alone, but checking in with their superiors would be a start."

Peridot's tongue stuck out as she typed. "Got it. Anything else?"

"Yes. There's a reason I came to you, specifically. I wanted a hacker of similar skill." He met her gaze. "I have way too much to do right now, so I need to delegate something to you: a full background check on Krystal."

She blinked. "The person who helped you?"

"The unknown party with unknown power over this situation. Yes."

"Well, alright." Peridot adjusted her visor. "I'll do what I can! I'll check back in with you on this channel, okay?"

"Yes. Please. That would be great." He coughed. "I'd be willing to compensate you for your efforts, in light of our previous-"

She waved a paw. "No need! I don't want any money."

"You… don't?"

"Of course not! You can consider this a favour. From a friend!"

Bentley glared.

"This is the part where you say 'Wow! Thanks!'"

His glare did not lessen. "You're just doing this to prove a point, aren't you?"

Her smile was bright and innocent. "Yes!"

"Wow. Thanks."

* * *

He had apparently fallen asleep.

He must have, because now he was waking up. It was disorienting, but it was far from the first time it had happened to him. He was a career criminal with an endless workload. Sleep was something that had to sneak up and jump him from behind.

Groggily, he lifted his head. The computers of the security room still shone in front of him. And now something was beeping.

Bentley fumbled for a moment, but he was more and more lucid by the second - again, nothing new - and soon he had pushed aside all the irrelevant programs to find the offender. Good news, for once. His automatic password-miner had struck gold.

Suddenly, all of Andross' local files were at his fingertips. The first thing he tried was to tap into a wider network, but no luck.

No matter. He now had far more material to sort through. And somewhere in here would be the lead they needed.

Gaps in his knowledge began to fill. That horrific jet aped Clockwerk's appearance in an attempt to maximise production efficiency. The Global Nullifier utilised multimodal reflection sorting to attack multiple communication wavelengths at once. The drones were the product of… something. He still didn't have everything. But he stayed focused. The most important question, the one he needed to answer, was where Andross was hiding.

He actually found his answer quite quickly. It just took him a while to realize it.

Bentley noted its first appearance with mild interest, but disregarded it. He couldn't get distracted by something that was clearly irrelevant. He didn't think too much of it the second time he came across it, either. By the fifth instance, he felt a vague sense of unease. What was Andross' obsession with this?

Finally - and this was purely so that he could put it out of his mind and get back to what was important - he determined what its current co-ordinates would be.

Then he double-checked his calculations. Triple-checked. But he had done his math right. He always did his math right.

Bentley wheeled himself away from the computers. He went outside.

And he looked directly upwards.

"Oh," he said.


	17. The Space Van Plebiscite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 20:39

* * *

"I'm going to give you one last chance," said Carmelita, "to tell me you're kidding."

They had found a meeting room. Though presumably intended for discussions of military strategy, it was oddly mundane for its location. There was a map on one wall, with the Zootopian metropolitan area meekly peeking out from the southwest corner. But otherwise, it was just a long table surrounded by chairs. A boardroom which could have plausibly been in any government building.

The others would arrive soon. So Carmelita had only a few moments to fold her arms and glare disbelievingly at Bentley.

"I assure you," he said, "I confirmed it every way I could think of. But all the evidence fits together. I even determined the one he's using, it _exactly_ matches the-!"

"Okay, okay." Carmelita glanced up. Nick and Judy were at the door, and she answered their silent question with a nod. They entered, soon followed by Fox and Murray and Sly. "Then I suppose you should tell everyone else."

"Yeah, what's happening?" Nick took a seat, flanked by Judy and Sly. "You sounded serious."

Carmelita watched Fox sit on the other side, and Murray awkwardly try to sit across two of the comparatively small chairs near the end. Almost reluctantly, she took her place at the head of the table. "Bentley… thinks he's found where Andross is working from."

"That's great." Sly settled onto his chair, tucking his legs up on the seat in a position that did not look, but nonetheless was, comfortable. "What did you get?"

"Um…" Bentley wheeled closer to the table, and unprompted, Fox moved a chair out of his way. He set his laptop down between Fox and Carmelita, hesitated, and spoke. "Space."

There was a pause.

"What?" said Murray.

"Space. They're in space."

"Oh," said Murray. "Yeah, that's what I thought you said."

Another pause.

Judy's voice cracked. " _ **Space?!**_ "

" _Hear him out_ ," said Carmelita, her voice rising over the hubbub that was about to break out. "He has evidence." She glanced to him. "Don't you?"

"Of course."

With two clicks, Bentley had activated the room's overhead projector - again, mundane, a brand popular with schools - and was displaying an image on the blank wall behind Carmelita.

"This," he said, "is one of the data fragments I was able to recover from Andross' systems. As you can all plainly see-"

"Bentley," said Sly, "this is just a solid wall of numbers."

"Okay, as maybe Lieutenant McCloud can see, it's a series of geographical co-ordinates."

"Yes!" Fox's smile faltered as he looked more closely. "Except… they're all too high."

"Exactly. I noticed that myself. I believe these co-ordinates describe the location of a satellite in the planet's orbit. And that's where Andross is working from."

"Hold on, hold on." Nick frowned. "All you found was a… line in the sky. What made you immediately jump to 'space station'?"

"If you'd let me finish?"

He flicked on to a new slide.

"This is one of several _unsettling_ devices Andross has been using. A combination of his own lifelong work and some posthumous input from Clockwerk."

"Bentley, you're just showing us numbers again. Although there's a picture of a tube, now…"

"It's not a tube, Sly. It's some sort of… accelerator. Think of it like a cannon, albeit one with the capability to also _recall_ the object it ejects."

"A boomerang cannon," said Murray. "Got it."

"This device would be capable of generating almost _instantaneous_ speeds… but only in the right circumstances. For one, the object being accelerated needs to be attuned to its specific frequency."

"Like a horrible, scary jet," said Judy. "Which just shows up and disappears without a trace."

"Precisely. I'm glad you're all following along. But there would also need to be enough empty space, in a straight line, between the accelerator-"

"Boomerang Cannon," said Sly.

"Between the Boomerang Cannon," sighed Bentley, "and its target. Far more space than exists between Zootopia and here. The only two data points we have, aside from, well…"

"Space."

"What you're suggesting," said Carmelita, "is that Andross' main base of operations is above us. And that ugly bird was able to appear and disappear so quickly in Zootopia, and here, because it was being shunted back and forth from a space station."

"That's correct."

"That sounds," said Nick, "fake. But I guess you'd know more about it than me."

"Yes. I would."

Bentley flicked on to a new slide. This one was slightly clearer, showing the blueprints for a large building that looked like a bulky box with a circular core.

"Since you clearly need more evidence, Officer Wilde, I'd like to present Bolse Defence Outpost. This was-"

"Oh, I know this!" said Judy. "It was a multinational project proposed several years ago - well, decades, more like. It actually got _really_ far into the design process, and had even been launched into orbit with a skeleton crew so they could make sure it worked. But the funding ran out, and priorities changed in the space program, and everyone went home."

"I…" Bentley blinked. "Yes. That's all accurate."

Judy smoothed her ears back down sheepishly. "Um - a friend of mine back home wanted to be an astronaut."

"And a story about millions of dollars going nowhere does tend to stick in the memory, doesn't it?"

"So, what?" said Nick. "They left it up there?"

"What else would they do? It had a stable orbit, and removing it would cost even more money. Bolse has been hovering over our heads for twenty years. Everyone who knows about it assumes it's just an empty shell."

He pointed back to the schematics.

"But I found repeated references to it in Andross' files, and its current location would fit those co-ordinates. That's where he is. I'm sure of it."

"This is a difficult prospect," said Carmelita. "But I believe it. Good job."

"Thanks."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I am going to try," she said, "to focus on the practicalities, here. Let's start from the very, very questionable premise that we all need to get out of the planet's atmosphere. Into… space." Her eyes fell on Fox. "How could we accomplish that?"

"Equipment is limited," he said. "There's still one jet here, and we should be thankful we have that much. We're not about to get anything else."

"Is it spaceworthy?"

"Maybe with the right modifications - ensuring that the cockpit is totally airtight, and a lot more power to the engines - it might reach the satellite. But there are two problems. It's not built for re-entry. It might go up, but I don't think it can safely come down."

"That's not a dealbreaker," said Sly. "There's gotta be another way on and off that station. I say we just steal our way home."

"Thank you," said Carmelita, "for contributing something relevant to a tactical conversation, for once."

"First time for everything." He turned to Fox. "And the other problem?"

"It's a fighter jet. There's only room for one pilot. And a small one at that."

"Yeah, that's an issue," said Nick. "It was cosy enough when me and Sly shared one. I doubt we could've even fit Carrots in with us."

"Don't be silly, Nick," purred Sly. "We can _always_ make room for Ju-"

"Sly," said Carmelita, "you have officially squandered your right to contribute to this discussion."

"I have no regrets."

"Bentley, is there any way of getting all of us up there using only one jet?"

He frowned. "Well, the key issue, obviously, is survivability. We'll have to pass through the _vacuum of space_ to reach our destination. If we don't take the proper precautions, we'll literally be dead on arrival."

"Yes," she said. "Yes, we would…"

"But assuming we accomplish that, we shouldn't push our luck. One, maybe two people could reach the satellite in that jet. So that's what we should do."

"Woah, woah." Sly shot a quick glance to Carmelita. "Wait, sorry, I know I'm banned from talking-"

"Are you kidding?!" said Judy.

"Okay, she'll say it."

"We've only got seven people here," she continued. "Unless you called in any reinforcements?"

"I didn't," said Bentley guardedly. "Our allies are either very far away or trapped in Zootopia."

"So there's only seven of us. And you want to cut that down even _further?_ "

"I don't. But we have to be sensible about this."

"Uh…"

"He has a point," said Carmelita, "though I don't like it either. For starters, we'd have to pick which two people get to go."

"Guys, I…"

"Me and Fox," said Sly immediately. "He'll fly us, I'll get us through the base. There. Solved it."

"You're only saying that because-!"

" **Hey!** "

They all looked up, suddenly, and Murray wilted under their combined gaze.

"Oh jeez. Uh. Sorry."

"On the contrary," said Bentley. "If you have a suggestion, the floor is yours."

Murray glanced at Carmelita - who realised she was probably glaring and tried to seem more receptive - before continuing. "Right. Thanks. So, like… me and the guys can't swim. At all."

Nick quietly snorted and Sly punched him on the arm.

"So once I was thinking," continued Murray, "that maybe the Van could swim instead?"

His huge hands fidgeted as he spoke.

"I don't have a slideshow for this, but, y'know… I did think about it. I decided against it, because when we're on the road we kinda, like. Live in it. But the Van has survived some _weird_ stuff just fine. It wouldn't take that much effort to make it completely airtight. The main problems were that you can't really fit a big air supply in there, and also, like, the water pressure would be dangerous. But if we were just taking it through space for a hot minute, neither of those would really come up, right?"

He rubbed at his neck.

"So yeah. Maybe we could, like, duct-tape the Van up real good, and tow it with the jet? That way we could get everybody up to the space station. If it worked."

He coughed.

"Thanks."

The others glanced between themselves. Bentley was the first to speak. "I remember those plans of yours, Murray. A huge factor in discarding them was your unwillingness to risk the Van. Has that changed?"

"Bentley," said Murray, "you know that van is my baby. But all babies must grow up… even face their mortality. And if my child goes out in a fireball, high above the planet it seeks to protect, then that will be a death **worthy of Valhalla.** "

"Love the sentiment," said Nick, "except for how we'd all be inside that fireball."

"Nick's right," said Carmelita. "I would need a full guarantee of safety before I let anyone take a _van_ to space. I'm not convinced."

"Oh," said Murray. "Yeah, no, that's fine. Sorry."

"Big guy, you have _got_ to stop apologising."

Sly leaned forward in his chair, eyes sharp.

"No-one knows that Van better than Murray. And he has an impeccable talent for keeping me alive. If he thinks it'll work, it'll work." He met Carmelita's gaze with an unbreakable smile. "I vote Space Van."

"Your confidence is noted, and adorable," said Carmelita. "But the answer's still no."

Judy planted a paw on the table. "Darn it!" she said. "I agree! I also vote Space Van!"

Nick boggled. "Carrots, no!"

"Carrots yes! We have to work with what we have. This is a ridiculous problem, and if it needs a ridiculous solution, well…!"

Sly's smile grew. "Looks like demand for Space Van is surging! That's three. One more vote, and we have a majority."

Carmelita wasn't smiling. "This isn't a democracy."

"It isn't? Then what's the point? What makes this table any better than Andross?"

"Fine. Have your vote."

"Thank you."

"Felons are disbarred."

"That's - hey, wait, no!" Sly's ears shot up. "You're joking!"

"You wanted democracy. This democracy practices felony disenfranchisement. Judy's vote remains valid. Yours, Murray's and Bentley's do not."

"I hadn't even voted!" protested Bentley.

"Thank you, Madame Inspector," said Nick, "for showing strong leadership. Sorry, Carrots, now it's three to one."

"Actually," said Fox, "I like this idea!"

"…I'd say 'You're kidding', but I know you never do."

"I think it could work! The jet would be able to support a vehicle like that with the right rigging." He smiled. "So it's two to two."

"Well," said Nick, "that's still-"

"Nick?"

He turned. "Carrots?"

"Carmelita said anyone who committed a felony can't vote."

"And?"

Judy smiled. It was a small, sweet, innocent smile. A harbinger of death. "Felony tax evasion."

There was a moment of silence as Nick Wilde's soul slowly left his body. He sank back into the chair. Destroyed.

"Two against one," sang Judy. "Justice prevails for Space Van."

"Well, what do you know?" said Sly. "The system works after all!"

" _Enough!_ "

Carmelita's fist slammed into the table. And instantly, the air in the room went cold.

"How any of you _children_ manage to accomplish anything is beyond me. This isn't a game! And we don't have time to sit around and joke about this."

Her eyes burned. The authority in her voice was unquestionable.

"I'm the closest thing this pathetic excuse of an outfit has to a leader. If I say no, that means **no!** I'm _trying_ to stay on target, here. I'm _trying_ to approach this properly. Because if we don't, there's no second chances." There was a snarl to her tone. "If you keep treating this as some vacation, I can't be held responsible when some of you - all of you! - _die._ "

When she stopped talking, there was nothing to fill the gap. No rhythmic banter. Silence crept in and settled.

Carmelita retrieved her fist from the table. She had barely felt the impact.

She fixed her hair and closed her eyes and took a breath. One breath. Short. She was in charge of the situation.

When she opened them, she kept her eyes on the table for a moment. Her expression was controlled. She looked like she was just in thought. Calm and focused.

Finally - unwillingly - she checked on her team.

Most were on the defensive. Murray seemed smaller, Judy's ears were down, and Fox - still professional - betrayed his feelings similarly, his ears slightly tucked back. Bentley was very pointedly looking at his laptop, as though just waiting this out. Sly was defiant. He met her gaze with that same glassiness, that same eerie anger, that had been weighing on her so much lately.

But what really caught her attention was Nick's expression. He didn't seem sad, or angry. With the slightest twitch of his eyebrow, he spoke to her.

_Not a leader?_

Carmelita, caught off guard, stared back. And then she sighed.

After a moment to order her thoughts, she spoke. "I don't want to yell like that again," she said, and meant it. "I'm sorry. I'll be better about my temper. But can we please save any jokes for later?"

There was a quiet murmur of agreement. Carmelita glanced to Nick, who gave her a nod and a ghost of a smile. All the encouragement she needed.

"Murray." She turned her attention to the other side of the table. "Your idea isn't bad. My problem is your lack of certainty. Can you really modify the Van that way?"

"I think so?"

She shook her head. "I need a yes or a no. Take the time you need to think about it. We can wait."

Murray lapsed into a silence, eyes on the floor. And then his fists lightly hit the table. When he spoke, it wasn't the shaky voice of his early years. " **The Murray** will not rest until that van is safe and spaceworthy!"

The atmosphere in the room immediately lightened. It felt easier to breathe. Carmelita seized the new energy, pushing forward. "That's great. But more time spent on the Van means less time spent on the jet. Do we just accept we could be stuck here for a few days? Or does anyone have ideas on how to - _safely_ \- speed things up?"

"Actually," said Bentley, "I've just had an idea."

"Please, go ahead."

"It occurs to me that we may be able to use Andross' own inventions against him. A device as power-intensive as the, uh… Boomerang Cannon… leaves behind a replicable energy signature. And with only one object attuned to that frequency - namely, the Clockwerk Jet - there's no security programming in regards to synchronization. In other words…"

Carmelita noted his smile was extremely devious. She was glad that wasn't her problem any more. Quite the opposite.

"We can hack it."

"Wonderful!" said Fox. "If we can tap into that energy ourselves, we can focus our modifications on safety instead of engine power! That's a great plan."

"It is," said Carmelita, her voice far more measured, "but I'm afraid I don't understand the technicalities."

"Trust me, no-one else does," said Sly good-naturedly.

"Walk us through it, Bentley. I assume you'll do the bulk of the work, but is there anything we can contribute?"

"As it happens," he said, "I'll need more data if I'm going to try to piggyback on the Cannon. And what I'm looking for may be hard to find. Our best bet of nailing down the frequency is if we install a series of signal-boosters in a wide perimeter of this location. Although I appreciate that's mostly dense forest, or mountainous terrain…"

"No problem!" said Judy, leaning forward. "Me and Sly can handle that."

"Absolutely," agreed Sly. "I'd love to help out. Especially if it boils down to me and Judy sharing a nice hike…"

"I object in the strongest possible terms," said Nick from between them, flatly.

"Objection overruled," said Carmelita, giving him a brief smile. "This is a good division of labour. Bentley, do whatever prepwork you need for those boosters, then help Murray and Fox modify the Van and that jet. Sly, Judy, follow Bentley's instructions to the letter. I want everything set up as soon as possible." She looked around. "Who does that leave?"

"Me." Nick folded his arms. "I'd like to confirm the timeline, here. How long is this gonna take?"

Across the table, Bentley, Murray and Fox shared a look. "If we get a clear run at it," said Bentley, "I'd say we'd be ready to move by tomorrow morning." This earned a nod from Carmelita. Time was vital.

"Then I," said Nick, "am going back to the mess hall, sorting what's there into 'edible' and 'inedible', and pre-preparing seven units of breakfast. You'd be surprised at the difference that makes. This is already a ridiculous, impossible plan. I refuse to try it on an empty stomach."

" **Yes,** " said Murray. "I'm glad someone at this table is thinking big picture."

"Agreed," said Carmelita. "We need to be in the best possible shape. Thank you for volunteering, Nick."

He shrugged. "I'm no scientist. But squeezing nutrition out of subpar ingredients? This I can do." He caught the gentle smile Judy was giving him, and returned it.

"Excellent. That's everyone accounted for." Carmelita frowned. "Except me."

She took a moment to weigh her options. She had no technical expertise to speak of. She could easily keep up with Sly and Judy, but two people were already plenty for that task. She could continue trying to contact Interpol, but even if she got through, what would that achieve? Could Barkley really offer her anything more solid than this sad, desperate plan?

Carmelita locked eyes with Nick. "Hey."

"Uh, yeah…?"

"Would you, um…" She coughed. "There seemed to be a lot of supplies in the mess. Do you need any help?"

He blinked, but soon melted into a fresh smile. "Don't need it. But could definitely use it."

"Then I'm with you."

She looked around the table. Six pairs of eyes returned her gaze. Six mammals with renewed purpose. They were alone out here. Alone with each other.

"Well then." She gave them a smile. "Let's begin."


	18. Ex Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 22:05

* * *

They had a lot to do.

When Andross' computer was their only lead, it had all fallen to Bentley. He did his part with typical excellence, and now there was a plan. While Sly and Judy hiked through the woods, and Nick and Carmelita portioned out food, the most important job was fielded by Murray and Fox.

Murray had worked on planes before. Briefly. Spaceworthiness had not been a concern.

But Fox was handling the task with impressive certainty. Murray was a car mechanic and Fox was a pilot and Bentley (currently taking a nap, at Murray's insistence) was an engineer, so between the three of them they mostly knew what they were doing. Mostly. Whenever Murray got stuck, Fox was right beside him with the answer and a smile.

"Oh, I get it," said Murray. "If the seal doesn't follow the curves already on the jet…"

"It'll break almost immediately because of the external forces. That's right!"

"Okay. But it won't be hard to make sure the angle is right. Right?"

"I'd say so." Fox raised both arms. "If you could just, uh-?"

Murray obliged, easily hefting the much smaller mammal and helping him onto the wing. Fox moved along it with a practiced, careful grace, ensuring he wasn't damaging the jet. He indicated a corner.

"This will be the hardest part to get right, but rest should be easy. I think we should handle it first."

"Makes sense. Same on the other side?"

"Yes!"

Murray picked him back up and set him back down. Fox lightly adjusted his jacket.

"Thank you."

"No worries. I'm used to it. And you're a lot lighter than Bentley's wheelchair."

"Heh…" Fox smiled at the floor. "I have to be."

"What?"

He blinked. "What?"

"You just said you have to be lighter than a wheelchair," said Murray, "which is, like… a weird thing to throw out there."

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Fox tugged at his scarf. "I'm told I say a lot of weird stuff…"

"Me too, little buddy. Don't let it get you down."

Murray stood there for a moment, watching Fox's expression. Then he sat down on a nearby crate.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Whatever's making you stare sadly into space every so often."

Fox's ears rose in alarm. "I'm sorry if I've been unproductive! I can-"

But Murray raised a hand. "You've been doing great. Like, I can't tell you how much harder this'd be without your help."

"Right. Thank you."

"So if you want some of my help," said Murray, "I'm a pretty good listener."

Fox nodded. "Bentley said so…"

Murray patted the crate, and Fox hopped up beside him. His legs kicked slightly. An almost inaudible _whirr_ with every movement.

"It's Wolf," he said finally.

"Kinda figured…"

"I haven't seen him in so long… and this is how he re-enters my life?" He sighed. "It's just a lot to get used to."

* * *

Penelope had a lot to get used to.

She was in space, now. Now she was in space. Every so often she would traverse these long white corridors and pass by a view of outside, and outside would be space. Blackness and pinpricks of light and a blue, unsuspecting world. Space.

She didn't consider herself small-time. She hadn't for years. And yet this felt out of her depth. Things were spiralling out of control. And she was much less flippant about supplying Andross with his insane demands, now that she was trapped inside a pressurised tin-can with him.

And Wolf.

She tried to stay focused. There was certainly enough to work on. She had barely made progress on cracking open Clockwerk's black box - deliberately so. Right now, she was testing the capabilities of Andross' production line, uploading some personal designs into the system. It felt like an extremely expensive equivalent to using the office printer for tabletop gaming supplies.

There was plenty to do. Too much. So she would just sit here and-

"Heya."

Her whiskers twitched. Not for the first time, she wished there was more structure and security to these rooms. With the exception of Andross' precious office, the architecture was irritatingly open.

And now there was a wolf in her doorway.

She looked up from her laptop. "What?"

He shrugged at her. "'m bored."

"And?"

"And I got whiskey."

Penelope paused. She glanced to her laptop's screen. Clockwerk's face, even starker in the cold lines of the Jet's blueprints, glared back at her. "Alright, screw it," she said. "If Andross asks why I'm slacking off, I'll blame you."

"That's what I'm here for…"

Wolf pulled up a chair, and Penelope sat cross-legged on her desk, and Wolf produced a cracked bottle of whiskey and a glass and a much, much smaller glass. Penelope thought about the artificial gravity, and how eating and drinking normally was far easier than what astronauts usually had to do, but also she felt like she was kind of missing out on that experience? She didn't say any of that.

For a while, neither of them said anything.

"We're in space," she blurted out.

"Yeah," he said.

"I'm kinda freaked out."

"Don't blame ya," he said.

With that, he was content to lapse back into silence.

Penelope sipped from her miniscule glass. She wasn't normally one for alcohol, and although this whiskey seemed to be about as good as horrible burning water ever got, there was a distinct lack of fun bubbles. Still, by going slowly, she hadn't embarrassed herself so far.

"This is some macho façade, right?" she said. "Or are you really okay with this? Like, _all_ of this. Not just being in space, but… what we've been contracted to do. It's nuts."

"It's well-paid."

"Oh, work with me here. Even _you_ can't be that s-"

He gave her a look - not even an angry look, but enough of a look to make her change her last word.

"…single-minded. For money."

"I like money. Thought you did too."

"Everyone likes money. It's not a personality." She tilted her head. "Isn't there anything else that motivates you?"

"No."

He sniffed, disinterested.

"So far, money's the only thing that hasn't bit me on the tail."

* * *

"Things used to be great."

It was dark out. Fox and Murray could see the night sky through the open hangar doors.

"Well," amended Fox, after a moment's thought, "maybe not _great_ -great. Never perfect. But it was better when Wolf was around. Don't get me wrong, I love my new teammates! They're very nice people." He tugged his scarf again. "Nicer than Wolf ever was…"

He shook his head.

"But I still miss him."

Murray took a moment to revisit what he knew about Wolf. Mean. Angry. Motivated by greed; would do anything for money. Smelt smoky, and faintly of alcohol. Kinda cool voice? Consistent fashion choices. Not _good_ , necessarily, but consistent.

He tried to sound tactful.

"Um… why?"

"I know how he seems," said Fox, "but he's more than just a greedy thug. He's more complex than that, even if he won't admit it. Plus, we've got such a shared history. Wolf has done so much for me." He beamed. "He's the reason people call me 'Fox'!"

"That, uh…" Murray tried and failed not to frown. "Is that the only thing you can think of? Because it doesn't sound… great."

"You guys really don't like my name, huh?"

"What? No!" Murray quickly held up his hands. "Not at all! It's got a good ring to it! It's just, uh - unusual, is all. Nothing wrong with that." He coughed. "Could you… explain the story to me? What did Wolf do?"

Fox paused for a moment, assembling it in his head. "My legal name," he said, "is James McCloud Junior."

"Oh," said Murray. "I getcha…"

"Yeah. I never liked being called 'Junior', even as a little kid. And it felt weird calling myself 'James', because that's what my mom called my dad! Or it was, until…"

Murray laid a huge hand, very softly, on Fox's shoulder.

"It was lose-lose," he continued. "I worry about changing it, because it's one of the few things I still have of my parents-"

"Don't," said Murray. "Naming babies is crazy hard. People end up with stuff they don't like all the time. I'm sure your folks would just want you to be happy."

"Thank you for saying that." Fox gave him a timid smile. "Bentley was right. You _are_ good at this."

Murray just shrugged.

"So eventually," said Fox, "I made it into the air force. And there were two kinds of people there. Some had heard of my dad. They remembered how good he was, and they expected me to be just as good, all the time."

"Because you're literally James McCloud Junior."

"Yes!" said Fox, a touch desperately. "But some hadn't heard of my dad at all."

"Oh. Cool."

"They didn't understand why a _fox_ should be allowed anywhere near expensive weaponry."

"Oh. Very not cool…"

"It wasn't," agreed Fox, and for once Murray caught a hint of misery in his breezy voice. "We were supposed to be a unit, but it's not like everyone's biases disappeared. Some people thought I wasn't… trustworthy."

"Which is ridiculous!" said Murray. "You're like, incapable of lying!"

"Yes!" said Fox. "But there were still people who didn't like me, just because I'm a fox."

His eyes were distant, lost in the past.

"I was so worried about it. I didn't know how Dad handled it, and I thought I was going to mess things up. Then I met Wolf. I remember one of the first things he ever said to me…"

He tried to dip his voice to match Wolf's husky baritone. The results were unconvincing, and adorable.

"'I don't dislike you because of how you were born, pup. I dislike you because you're _you.'_ "

"Oh," said Murray. "Great…?"

"From that moment, I knew I could trust him. He was mean about it - he had a lot of anger to work through - but he didn't see me as a fox, _or_ a McCloud. He just saw… me."

Murray began to nod. "Okay, I get it. Even if it wasn't nice, it was exactly what you needed."

"Yes. And from there, I did my best to befriend him. I had to give him his space a lot, but people noticed how I tried to stick with him. He was the only wolf, and I was the only fox, and he was already _called_ Wolf, so…" Fox shrugged. "The system worked. Someone would yell 'Fox!' and I knew they meant me."

He smiled.

"And that's how I got to be Fox McCloud. Wearing my species with pride. I really love my name, and when he saw how much I liked it, Wolf made sure it caught on. He's good with people when he wants to be! And I guess it helped that he was the hugest guy there…"

"Yeah?"

"Oh, definitely. You know about the air force's hiring practices, right?"

"Uh," said Murray evenly, "no."

Fox smiled. "It's pretty simple. A lot of professions are angled toward certain species, right? Nocturnal animals taking night shifts, smaller mammals being kept away from combat…"

"That was why Judy had to work so hard to be a cop." Murray rubbed his neck. "Not that police departments are supposed to act like a military, but - y'know."

"But," said Fox, "the air force isn't like the infantry. It's more about how suited you are to flying."

"Oh, got it. The smaller you are, the better, right?"

"Exactly," said Fox. "It's much easier to calibrate a design to work for a smaller pilot than a larger one. And some aircraft just can't be flown by animals above a certain weight."

Fox's gaze wandered to the horizon.

"I'm… actually the largest pilot in my squadron now."

"Woah. Really?"

"Lena is a squirrel, and Poe is a vesper bat. They're both much lighter than I am. That's the direction things are going. Smaller pilots, making room for more tech." His smile was hollow now. "And that's what happened to-"

* * *

" **Me!** The best damn pilot those idiots had ever seen! And how do they repay me?!"

Wolf slammed his empty glass back onto the table.

"Kicking me out on my tail. By calling me **fat!** "

"Yikes," said Penelope.

He really had gotten himself going. Part of her regretted prodding at his past, but she had gotten sick of the silence. This was something, at least.

She knew about the weight differential for pilots, of course. It was a rare advantage of being a mouse. She had many fun and interesting anecdotes about balancing her false Black Baron persona against her natural form. Now was not the time to share them.

Wolf was reaching for the bottle. "We're all obsolete eventually. You know that. How much of your work do you hand off to a robot? How much is stuff you thought a machine could never do?"

She grunted sympathetically.

"I was just the guy who got cut first." He refilled his glass. All the way. "Thing is, though, Fox is next. And he knows that. He _must_ , he ain't as dumb as he pretends. And yet he clings to them, like the naïve idiot he is, just waiting 'til the day they ditch him like they ditched me."

For a moment, he glared into the glass.

"Why is he like that?"

Penelope sensed he wasn't really asking her. Or the whiskey. She still made a tentative attempt. "Like what?"

"…I don't have the word. What's the opposite of 'ambition'?"

He took a swig, then locked eyes with her.

"Thing about Fox is that he likes doing the right thing. That's _all_ he likes to do. The air force was something he had to try, on account of his dad, and sure enough, he's amazing. But if he wasn't a pilot, he'd be a kindergarten teacher, or a social worker, or one of those poor schlubs you can call when you need a good reason not to jump off a bridge. He'd find some job that's all stress and no pay and throw himself into it. And he'd be _great._ "

"You're saying all this," said Penelope guardedly, "like it's an insult…?"

Wolf's mouth tightened. "It annoys me."

He drank, and so did she. Penelope supposed that was the end of it.

"It annoys me," said Wolf, in the sudden tone of a closed-off man who is just drunk enough, "because I don't get it. And I don't mean that in a 'oh, different strokes' kinda way, I mean _I don't get it_. I don't get how he can put strangers in front of his own needs, over and over."

His grip on his glass was too tight.

"I don't get why I'm a bad guy for wanting things."

Penelope nodded. Sombre.

She knocked back a bit more whiskey. It didn't help, but maybe it looked like it did.

"Look, bud, I dunno what to tell ya. I'd love to say greed is good. That you should reach for whatever you want, and ditch all the losers who try to hold you back."

She indicated the cold, white room.

"But that's what we did, and we've ended up in a _weird_ place. Literally and metaphorically. We know what we did. We made our choices. The only decision now is to give up and get nothing, or keep going and maybe get a huge amount of money." She shrugged. "You gotta stay practical, y'know? What's done is done."

Wolf sighed. "And now we're stuck up here with Emperor Bananas the First."

"Until we get paid," she said. "He's assuming we - and everybody else - will love his weird system so much we'll just roll over. But I'm already thinking ahead. If he wins, someone _else_ is gonna want him gone. And they're gonna offer good money for it."

"What? You just gonna keep helping and then betraying mad scientists who wanna rule the world?"

"As long as it keeps paying."

"Amen to that," he said, and they clinked their glasses together. The sound from Penelope's was comically small.

* * *

"I feel very small sometimes."

Fox gave Murray a more bittersweet smile.

"Not literally, I mean."

"I getcha."

Fox moved his gaze to the jet. "I want to help Wolf," he said. "But I want to help people in trouble, too. And Wolf _puts_ people in trouble. The choice is pretty obvious, but that doesn't mean it's easy." His ears were low. "I wish I was more like you guys. You're all great friends to each other, but when it's time to fight, you can just focus and do it. I'm… not sure I have that in me. To be scary."

"Being scary's overrated," said Murray.

He hoped he sounded coherent. But he wasn't overthinking his choice of words. He knew he had to just speak from the heart.

"Take it from somebody who's beat up a million punks - it's not about hurting the other guy. It never is. It's about protecting who you love, and protecting yourself! Sometimes, the only way to do that is to get ugly. But if you need something to get you through the ugly times, just remember how nice it'll be when you and your friends come out the other side. That's what it's about."

Fox sat on that for a moment. "But… do you think I can stop Wolf from hurting anyone else? Without getting… ugly?" His voice was quiet. "Bentley said I shouldn't try…"

"Bentley's very smart," said Murray, "but also a big pessimist. Forget what he thinks for a second. Forget what I think. Ask yourself - what do _you_ think?"

"I don't know."

"Then all you gotta do," said Murray, "is figure it out. It's that simple." He patted Fox's back. "I trust your judgement."

Fox smiled up at him, shy but grateful. "Thank you."

Murray let the moment hang, for as long as he felt he could. "No problem, pal. You, uh, ready to get back to it?"

"Alright!" he said. "I'm…!"

And then he yawned. It was an adorable yawn, a showcase of tiny fangs. Murray would have said so, but he wasn't sure he was allowed to use the word 'cute'. "You alright, little buddy?"

"I'm fine!" Fox tried to rally. "I can keep helping! Don't worry about me."

"It's okay. Really. You aren't just working on this plane - in the morning, you gotta fly it too." He looked Fox up and down. "How much sleep do you usually get?"

"Um… the normal amount?"

"Yeah, see, that's gonna be a problem. Me and the guys keep weird hours! We can work on this all night and still be in fighting shape tomorrow. But if you're not used to it, it's gonna mess you up real bad."

He patted Fox's comparatively tiny shoulder.

"You wanna be a good team player? Head to bed when you get tired. Me and Bentley will do the rest, I promise."

Fox nodded. "Okay. I'll help you finish the preparations, and I'll go to bed right after. Does that make sense?"

"Sounds perfect! Thanks."

"Okay. And thank you, too." Fox smiled up at him. "For listening. And for looking out for me."

"You wanna know a secret, Fox?"

Murray matched his smile.

"Looking out for each other is why we always win."

* * *

"Must be nice."

Wolf gave her a look. "Which part? All seems like garbage from where I'm sitting."

"True. But I meant how the guy you left behind is a total creampuff."

She slowly rotated the glass in her hand. She had decided she really disliked whiskey. She wouldn't drink any more.

"If he's really the ball of unconditional love you say he is, he'll probably forgive you. Just finish the job, and find him after Andross dies in a _tragic_ accident-"

Wolf chuckled.

"-and say 'I'm really sorry I worked for the guy who killed your folks, here's three billion dollars and a hug', and he'll be like 'thanks, I don't even need the money I'll just take the hug', and you'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say."

"It is," said Penelope, "because it's not on the cards for me."

She put down her glass.

"My former gang have made it very clear they won't forgive me. They have these… notions. Honour among thieves and that stuff. I violated their little code, hard. They're never gonna take me back after I did that."

He raised an eyebrow. "So why did you?"

"Why does anyone do anything?"

"That's not an answer."

"Sure isn't."

After a moment she gave another shrug.

"I've just gotten used to being by myself, really." Penelope aimed a tiny smile at her tiny glass. "But it's good to know I have a friend up here, at least."

"What was that?"

His voice was quiet. Too quiet.

Penelope dragged her eyes up, meeting his cold gaze. His expression had shifted. Mouth curled with disdain.

The room felt colder. Like the void outside was eager to get in.

"How goddamn stupid," he said, "do you think I am?"

She blinked. "Wh… what?"

"You think we're _friends?_ " He sneered the word, lips pulling back into a snarl. "I'm only here because slugging whiskey by myself is too depressing. Don't go misunderstanding this, Earhart. I thought you were smarter than that."

Penelope stared, but caught herself. "What's your problem?!"

"Oh, it ain't _my_ problem." He met her tiny glare. "I know what happens to your ' _friends_ '. The Cooper boys were your _friends_. Bellwether was your _friend_. With a track record like that, you ain't gonna drag me past 'work associate'."

"Those were… different."

"Sure they were." His anger was rising now, a growl in his voice. "They were different from each other, and they're different from this. And the next time someone is dumb enough to trust you, you'll tell them this was different too."

"I-!"

"Don't," he snapped. "Just don't. I don't wanna hear it."

He went to stand. Part of Penelope knew it would be smarter to just let him leave, but… "You knew, right? That I was the one who…?"

" _Yeah_. I heard. Even I'm not that stupid, right?"

"Then… why?" She stared up at him. "Why are you fine with working with me? I lied to you and manipulated you - you coulda died!"

"First off," he said, "don't flatter yourself. Nothing's gonna kill me, least of all you."

He matched her gaze, his organic eye somehow as icy as the new one.

"And I can work with you because I'm a professional. You give me a job, and I do it. Doesn't matter if I know the boss is a scumbag, or if my quote-unquote _friend_ tries to stop me, or if my only coworker nearly got me killed. I'm not letting anything personal stop me from getting paid. And I'm gonna use all that money to buy a damn island so I never hafta look at anyone ever again."

He gathered his bottle and his glass, roughly. She saw the sheer power in his shoulders, and tried not to show she was shaking.

"I changed my mind," he said. "I'm better off drinking alone."

And without another word, he stalked off.


	19. Killing Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 04:04

* * *

Nick woke slowly.

This bunk bed wasn't all that uncomfortable. Pretty good for an abandoned airbase. But something was wrong. Something had woken him.

He felt a needle of fear, which became an instant spear when he realised that this aberration, this intruder, was physically _touching_ him-

He blinked, night vision kicking in quickly, and let out a quiet sigh. Judy had abandoned her own bunk and was cuddled into his tail. Again.

He shook his head, smiling. _Dumb bunny_.

Part of him was content to just roll over and fall back asleep, but he was awake now. He decided to stretch his legs.

It took every ounce of his hustler dexterity, his cunning sleight of hand, but he gradually managed to slip Judy's small but powerful arms off of his tail and onto his pillow instead. She didn't wake, but judging from her face, she sleepily noticed the change in quality.

 _Don't pout, you little monster! It's my tail, and I have the right to withdraw it!_ He smirked, silently drawing back. After one last glance to Judy, eyes warm, he left.

Fox was asleep too, literally curled up on what had been Wolf's bunk. _Even cuter than usual_. Nick made sure not to wake him either. In a few hours he'd be flying them all into space. If he wasn't in good shape, well…

It didn't surprise Nick that Fox kept daylight hours. He had made the change himself, first as a hustler looking for marks, then as the partner of a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed bunny. Nocturnal schedules had their place, but society and work forced many mammals out of their natural rhythms. Nick, and Fox, and Carmelita.

So he wondered if it was some instinctual release when he stepped out into the cold night air and, somehow, felt good.

All things considered, he should have been losing his mind. His hometown was under attack, and Nick - a beat cop undergoing therapy - had somehow stumbled his way onto the tiny team of criminals and specialists in the middle of it all.

Still not the most stressful thing that had happened to him this year.

All a matter of perspective. Classic Nick would have said that he had clearly been broken and was no longer capable of feeling normal levels of fear. Current Nick tried to see it more positively. What hadn't driven him irrevocably insane had made him stronger. Or something.

In his musings, he had wandered toward the southern hangar. Maybe he had been drawn by the light - it was the only building still illuminated.

Whatever the sleep cycles of professional foxes, their little group had a big advantage; three thieves who still lived like teenagers. The Cooper Gang was well-used to working through the night, and it showed. While Fox got the nine hours he needed to function, Murray and Bentley kept working on the jet, with barely any signs of fatigue.

Sly was there too. Similarly energetic.

"So here's what I'm thinking." He sat on a tall crate, his legs swinging. "We should use an emp."

"Ee-em-pee," corrected Bentley, from somewhere inside the cockpit.

"Pretty sure it's 'emp'," said Sly, in a breezy tone that made it clear he absolutely knew it was not. "But think about it. All of Andross' plans rely on tech. His drones, his inventions… heck, he even stuck a bunch of circuits into Wolf. If we hit them with an emp…"

"Yeah!" Murray emerged from under the jet, sleeves rolled up and eyes shining. "I think that's a good idea."

"Sure," came Bentley's voice. "Except for the fact we don't have one."

"Can you make one?" said Sly.

"With the right materials? I could build a _small_ one. Effective within a few feet. You're suggesting we bathe the entire space station in an electro-magnetic pulse."

"No, I never said that. I wanted to use an emp."

Nick laughed, catching their attention. "Jeez, Ringtail. You may as well ask the poor guy to build us a nuke."

Sly's ears perked. "Slick! Didn't hear you come in. Pretty impressive to sneak up on a group of master thieves. Y'know…"

"What?" Nick smirked, shifting his hips. "You gonna give me the same offer you're always trying to give Carrots?"

"You can always run with us. That's just an open invitation at this point."

Before Nick could reply, Bentley cut across them. "Officer Wilde, as pleasant as it is to see you…"

"You're busy. I get it." He caught Sly's eye. "Wanna take a walk? No offense, but your skill-set seems, uh…"

"You're trying to say I'm sitting here distracting the two people who actually know what they're doing, aren't you?"

Sly easily slipped down to ground level.

"Well, you're right," he said lightly. "You guys want anything? I'll circle back with snacks."

After memorising Murray's longish request with a practiced ease, Sly joined Nick in ambling back out of the hangar. Alone under the stars.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" murmured Sly.

"Yeah. I've barely ever left Zootopia, and the light pollution there is terrible." Nick looked upward, his voice quiet. "It's kinda nice just to see the stars…"

"Barely left your hometown, huh? Let me restate my offer to whisk you around the world. I can promise it'd be worth your while."

Nick smirked. "I admit that there's a part of me tempted by the idea, but…"

His eyes hadn't left the stars.

"Tomorrow morning I might get a lifetime of travelling out of my system. In one weird, terrible trip."

Sly nodded. "It'll be a first for me, too. And that's saying something…"

They walked in silence for a while, heading for the centre of the base. Finally, Nick spoke again. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Oh?"

"I wasn't just getting you out of Bentley and Murray's way. I needed to get you alone."

" _Ohhhhh~?_ "

"Keep it in your pants."

Sly blinked. Nick had been matching his flirtations in good humour lately, but his voice was suddenly sharp. He stopped walking, turning to Sly. They were in the middle of the bunkers now. A few signs of the battle with Wolf, and his worrying strength, were still visible in the darkness.

"I'm a traffic cop," said Nick. "You're a thief. Neither of us have any business going to space to fight a mad scientist. So we have to do this right."

Sly folded his arms. He was taller than Nick, but that was only ever evident when he stood up straight. Like now. "I have every reason to be here. If you're scared, that's fair. No-one expects you to risk your life over this. But I'm stopping Andross. I need to."

"You sound like Fox. You've both got personal stakes in this mission, and you both refuse to walk away. But there's one major difference." Nick's eyes were hard. "Fox is the biggest boy-scout I've ever met in my life. I trust him to make the right decisions. You? I'm not so sure about you."

"Nick, what are you getting at?"

"A very wise person once told me," he said, "'vengeance blackens the soul'. You stupid, stupid moron."

Sly met his gaze coolly. "Oh. The old 'here's a thing you said to me once' manoeuvre. Judy does it better."

"Then maybe I should get Judy to yell at you instead. She'd be happy to, if you refuse to listen to me." His gaze didn't waver. "Or Carmelita."

He expected a reaction at that, and he got it. Sly's face showed little change, but Nick caught the sudden bristling of his tail. "She put you up to this?"

"Yeah, because this is middle school, and she bribed me with her lunch money. _No_ , you dolt. I'll tell you what I told her. If I get killed by a giant robot, hey, it happens. Apparently. But I refuse to get killed because I've got exactly six people to rely on, and two of them are stuck in some petty drama."

"You think I'm petty?"

Now he felt it.

Now Nick was getting a taste of the sour anger that even Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox felt unnerved by. Sly watched him with cold eyes, his usual humour instantly gone.

He spoke a little too quietly.

"Listen, Nick."

He met his gaze, expression calm. Almost bored. "Oh, I'm listening."

"I hear you had things rough, growing up. I'm not about to make this a contest." His voice was steady. So was his glare. "But if it _was_ a contest, I would win. Y'know why? Because you, Nick, still have a mom."

Nick noticed the way his jaw tightened. There was a lot of muscle packed into Sly's thin frame.

"'Marian', right?" he was saying. "Yeah. We had that fun little conversation when you needed a pep talk. The cool thing about Marian, and I say this as someone who hasn't met her, so I'm sure there's plenty of other cool things about her, but what springs to mind for me is how you never had to _watch her get murdered_."

Nick folded his arms too, and squared his stance, and stood there. What Judy had said in jest - and Carmelita in wounded spite - was true. The fact he now went to a therapist didn't make him qualified to act as one. But he hadn't been a qualified cop, during that first, terrifying adventure with Judy. He had a knack for finding workable solutions.

After a moment of tense silence, Sly realized he wasn't going to reply. One ear flicked in irritation. "Point being," he said, "I don't want to hear you lecture me. Clockwerk is my problem. And I'll deal with him my way. Are we clear?"

"The only thing that's clear," said Nick, "is how badly you need to get over yourself."

Sly went to fire back, but Nick easily locked him down. Like Carmelita, Sly was unprepared for Nick Wilde at his full power.

"You've got this really interesting contradiction about you, y'know. And I'm not talking about the whole 'honorable criminal' thing. I've met a lot of so-called criminals and a lot of cops and there's no doubt in my mind which group is, on average, more honourable and trustworthy. I mean something else." He looked the taller mammal in the eye. "You," he said, "are a very self-centred team player."

"What?"

"It's obvious how much you love your brothers, and Carmelita. And after sharing that nightmare weekend with you, I can't say I don't see it. You're encouraging. Thoughtful. You praise the people around you, and you mean it. And that means they turn in a great performance," said Nick, "as they help out on _your_ adventures."

He planted his hands on his hips, small but solid. A certain tinge of self-righteous rabbit to his stance.

"I thought I had you pegged. A showboating narcissist, using other people as props for your starring role as the big hero. That's why your big sacrifice threw me for a loop. I didn't realize how much you'd give up for someone like me." He watched him coolly. "Was it a fluke?"

"No."

"Then _get it together._ " Nick indicated the barracks with a nod. "This is a team effort. You think if Carrots had to fight Bellwether again, she'd have this macho attitude, insisting she gets to call every shot? Or if Carmelita had to fight… I started this very dramatic sentence without a good idea of a nemesis for Carmelita…"

"As far as I'm aware," said Sly, "she mostly deals with my enemies, after I'm done with them." His voice was quiet. A different kind. "Her longest-running nemesis would be… me."

Nick paused, then softened his voice to match. "Then it sounds like you owe her a lot."

"I do. I know I do."

The fire had gone out of Sly. Nick just felt bad for him, now. It was obvious Carmelita was his weak point.

"Nick… I get it. Everything you're saying makes sense. But it's not a question of being rational. Clockwerk killed my _parents_." His voice, always so smooth, so confident, wobbled. "I need to do everything I can to stop him coming back. Everything."

"And you don't think Carmelita can handle it?"

Nick kept his voice steady. Not accusatory or judgemental. Just calm.

"Because you know she can. And the way you're acting like she can't? It's really hurting her."

Sly looked like he'd been shot. He stared at Nick, wordless panic in his eyes.

"It's true," said Nick, unvictorious. "Her self-confidence has taken a hit. Which, again, would be bad enough if she _wasn't_ leading us all to our potential deaths in the morning. I'm only playing marriage counsellor because I'd like to survive the next twenty-four hours. I am, after all, a coward."

"No," said Sly. "You aren't."

He lapsed into silence for a moment. Nick watched the motions of his jaw as he considered and rejected a few different things to say, before finally…

"Thank you, Nick."

His ears were low.

"I'm really sorry for what I said. I mean, the stuff about your mom was-"

Nick held up a hand. "It's… fine. Forget it." He gave Sly a look. "Besides, I'm not the one you need to apologise to."

"Right. Yes." Sly rubbed his neck. "Have you seen Carmelita? She's not in bed, is she?"

A new voice. "She's not."

Sly tensed, ears shooting back up, and although he reflexively downplayed his reaction Nick was a little surprised as well. Slightly ahead of schedule. But in practice, perfect timing.

Carmelita walked towards them. Eyes tired but sharp.

"Madame Inspector," smiled Nick. "How goes the patrol?"

"H…" Sly sounded uncharacteristically rattled. "How much of that did you hear…?"

"It's quiet," she said. "No-one knows we're here, so patrolling is a waste of time. And as for your question, Sly… you've been insulting Mrs Wilde?"

"Never," he said, his usual humour crawling past his pale expression in a desperate last stand. "Of course not. She's an angel."

"Darn right," smirked Nick.

He gave a stretch, slow and leisurely, as Sly stayed rooted to the spot.

"Welp. Unlike you two rambunctious kids, I need my beauty sleep. As does Carrots, who could at any moment notice my absence. Or the absence of my tail, anyway… I'll see you both in a few hours."

He nodded to Carmelita, and she nodded back, and he knew there was more to her nod than a simple goodnight. He gave her a smile, then began to saunter away.

"Uh, Nick…!"

Sly's thief reflexes kicked in, giving him a final chance to intercept Nick before he left.

"Thanks. Again."

Nick matched his low murmur. "Eyes on the prize, Ringtail." With a final wink, he vanished.

Sly turned to Carmelita. Carmelita watched Sly. Just two mammals under the endless starry sky.

For a moment, they both just stood there. Alone, silent, in the night.

Now that Sly had been warned about it - now that someone had grabbed him by the back of the head and shoved his face into it, since that was apparently what he needed - there was no avoiding it. There was a certain… fragility to Carmelita. The hardness in her eyes, in her stance, now seemed brittle. Like it was mostly functional, but if hit hard enough, or twisted the wrong way, it might shatter.

Sly felt a pit of guilt in his gut.

For all his talk of appreciating their team-ups - of appreciating _her_ \- he had done a terrible job of showing it. She thought he didn't trust her. Which couldn't be further from the truth, but from her perspective… from the things he'd been saying…

Sly opened his mouth. Before he could speak, she was kissing him.

His hesitation was short-lived. Wordlessly, he returned the kiss, and the embrace she wrapped him in. Still silent. But suddenly a lot less alone.

After a moment, she broke the kiss, but didn't go far. She stayed close, resting her head against his.

He almost didn't want to speak. Rare feeling. "What was that for…?"

She kept her voice warm, low. Matching his. "I've… been saying the wrong thing a lot lately. New strategy."

"I like it."

"Thought you might…"

Her strong arms felt solid around him. The night was cold, but she felt very, very warm.

"…I wish we were normal," she finally murmured. "I wish we were normal people, with normal jobs, who argued about normal things."

He just nodded.

"But…" That unbreakable Carmelita Fox strength was still in her voice. "We aren't. This is who we are. And this is what we have to work with."

She pulled back, but didn't go far. Her hands settled on his shoulders.

"I can't order you around," she said. "And not just because you aren't my junior officer. I don't think anyone can order you around."

"I _am_ a stubborn jerk," he said softly.

"But you're a good man, too. All I want is to know I can trust you."

Her hand drifted off his shoulder. To his cheek.

"Can I trust you, Sly?"

His answer was instant. Almost unceremonious. "Always."

She nodded. "Okay then."

They stood there for a moment, keeping each other warm. When he spoke, Sly's voice was quiet. "You going back on patrol?"

"I don't see much point. I was just keeping myself awake, really."

"Well, if we're not sleeping, or working on the jet, that leaves us both at a loose end…"

His hands found hers, and he gave her a knowing smile. One she found herself returning. For all they knew, they only had a few hours left on this earth. And that smile sealed an unspoken promise that they would spend that time together.

Or it did, until Sly suddenly frowned.

"Oh, wait. I have to go. Just for a second."

She returned his frown, but it was more confused than anything. "What? Where?"

"I… promised to bring Murray some food."

Carmelita laughed. Oh, how he had missed that laugh. "Always the dutiful brother… That's your best quality, you know."

"Here I thought my best quality was all my hilarious jokes."

"You're the only one who thinks that, _mi amor_."

Her hand returned to his cheek. It was as warm as her soft brown eyes.

"I won't keep you."

"Oh, I'd love it if you did. Like I said, it'll take just a second. They don't need my help in there."

He met her gaze, doing his best to match her warmth.

"After that, I'm all yours."


	20. When Zootopia Is Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 08:00

* * *

" _Good morning, Zootopia. I'm Fabienne Growley."_

" _And I'm Peter Moosebridge. This is the Morning Report."_

" _A reminder to all our viewers that due to the machinations of international terrorist Andrew Ross, this broadcast is confined to the Zootopian metropolitan area. All attempts to contact the wider world remain unsuccessful."_

" _This of course comes as part of the illegitimate martial law which has gripped Zootopia since yesterday morning, overseen by Tai Lung, a violent criminal and escaped convict. While the majority of the ZPD remain trapped underneath the city, due to a series of events which remain inexplicable, average citizens are finding life difficult under the supposedly benevolent reign of Ross."_

" _Hospitals have pledged to stay open in order to continue providing emergency care, but other public institutions such as schools and libraries, as well as private businesses, are facing a dilemma over whether to open. Uncertainty is still rife after yesterday's terrorist attack, and it is unclear when - or if - normal service can resume._ "

" _For the moment, Tai Lung has been monitoring the populace, employing an army of hostile drones. Citizens have reported being violently harassed by these machines for minor infractions and, in many cases, for no clear reason at all. Here at ZNN, we urge you to remain in your homes unless your work is essential. Andrew Ross' inept invasion has endangered too many mammals."_

" _If you will forgive me for editorialising, I would like to say: if I find you, Mister Ross, I am going to break every bone in your body with my bare hands."_

" _Strong words from my co-host. Ones Andrew Ross should take to heart."_

" _I don't make idle threats, Peter."_

" _I know, Fabienne. We all do."_

* * *

" _I've come to make an announcement._ "

Tai Lung's voice echoed all over Zootopia. It echoed from the speakers set up at the steps of ZPD HQ. It echoed from every drone patrolling the eerily quiet city. And it echoed from public screens, such as the huge display which previously presented a pleasant if repetitive message of Gazelle welcoming newcomers at the central train station. With the streets deserted, these screens ironically reached far fewer than ZNN's defiant broadcast.

" _We are not here to hurt you. We don't even mean to inconvenience you. This is merely an unfortunate detour on the way to something grander. The more you co-operate, the smoother this will go for everyone._ "

He grinned from every display in the city.

" _You may not trust Andross very much at this moment. But what politician is better? Your precious Mayor Dreemurr, perhaps?_ "

He brandished a printout for the camera.

" _This is information I was directly sent, thanks to a… colleague. You all remember the Phantasm incident, yes? When the criminal wretch Sly Cooper so unjustly kidnapped your-"_ His grin fought off a growl. " _Your_ heroes _, Nicholas Wilde and Judy Hopps? Such cowardice. Such moral depravity. Who would possibly partake in such things?_ "

His smile finally cracked, rage pouring out of his golden eyes.

" _I'll_ _ **tell**_ _you! Dreemurr, and her oh-so-perfect family! We have hard evidence, GPS data, indicating Cooper and his hostages spent almost an entire day at the Dreemurr residence. Funny how that never reached the public record, eh? Every other detail of the case was plastered everywhere, and yet Dreemurr never felt like volunteering this information. The implications are clear, my friends. This was aiding and abetting. Your beloved mayor and your detested thief were rubbing shoulders this whole time._ "

He managed to slide something more friendly back onto his face.

" _So consider it, citizens. Consider the mayors your system has produced - the deceitful Lionheart, the hateful Bellwether, and now the two-faced Dreemurr - and ask yourselves if you can really abide this kind of leadership any longer. Andross intends to keep his promises, and he would be_ delighted _to show you how he will handle dangerous criminals like Cooper. I'm told the execution would be livestreamed…_ "

Tai Lung cleared his throat.

" _But one thing at a time. For now, Andross is offering generous monetary rewards to any citizen with pertinent information about Dreemurr's whereabouts… and I can tell you that turning in the fat little cheetah who calls himself a cop would be an excellent start. Consider this offer carefully. Make things easier for yourself, and your family, and your city. I'll be waiting._ "

The transmission cut off.

One mammal, at least, had been watching. Pausing in an empty square, he blinked up at the screens above. They had instantly gone as black as his spiked denim jacket.

"I told you it would be garbage."

His partner - in a matching outfit, a jacket and pants that said 'wasteland' but a soft scarf that murmured 'snuggly' - gave him a look.

"We're burning daylight. Let's go."

"Yeah," said Gary. "You're right."

They fell into step, quietly entering a deserted mall.

"This is all so weird," said Gary, voice soft. "Announcements on the public screens, robots in the sky… it really feels like a movie."

"And no-one around."

"I mean, don't get me wrong! I'm glad we're finally getting use out of these cool desert-bandit outfits!"

Larry smiled. "Yeah. Thanks for suggesting it. This is fun."

Gary blushed, savouring the compliment for a second before continuing. "But still. Seeing the bad guy make a big speech about catching the mayor and live-streaming executions is… yeesh."

"I get it. Let's just stay focused. We still need groceries. If we find a mom-and-pop shop still open, we're supporting it."

"Definitely!"

"But if all we find are abandoned megastores…"

Larry swung the net-gun on his back into his hands.

"Well. We still need groceries."

"That was really cool," breathed Gary.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

They crept together through the silent mall. Shop after shop shut down. Gary kept his eyes open, his ears up, his nose ready. But Larry spoke again.

"I wonder how much cash they're offering for the mayor…"

Gary looked over. "You aren't-"

"I'm not," said Larry immediately. "I'm honestly just wondering. But we're far from the only Zootopians who are… not very financially stable. They might get some interest."

"Nah," said Gary.

Larry, as he often did, merely prompted more with a raised eyebrow.

"There's two things here, as far as I see it," said Gary. "First off - Mayor Dreemurr is a nice lady. She's been doing an okay job. The last couple mayors have all been… _bad_ , so the bar is low, and she's well over it. Like, heck. She's such an improvement over Smellwether, even if that thing about being friends with Sly Cooper _is_ true-"

"Which it is," Larry reminded him. "We were there."

"Oh yeah. But most people weren't, and I don't think they're going to believe anything that snow leopard says." He smiled. It wasn't as innocent as he usually looked. "Which brings me to my next, more important point."

"That being?"

"Spite. Everyone in the city hates these guys. People are staying home right now, because there's still a chance it'll all be over by tomorrow. But the longer this goes on? The more Andross is going to find out how much well-deserved spite a city can generate."

Larry chuckled. "Well. I dunno about joining any protests." He rested a hand on Gary's shoulder. "Unless you're there, that is."

Gary melted into a warmer smile. Slowly, he leaned in, and Larry leaned in match him-

and then awkwardly leaned back out when Gary thrust his nose in the air, eyes wide, sniffing.

He led Larry into a huge supermarket dominating half a floor of the mall - it had been shuttered, but someone had knocked a hole in the perimeter to get inside. They crept in together. Larry had caught the scent too, and it led them to the electronics section.

It was a honey badger.

She was huffing and muttering to herself as she loaded up on some equipment. She was bristling with rage and muscle, and the baseball bat strapped to her back gave them pause. But she was clearly distracted.

"Opportunity of a lifetime to _obtain_ some equipment, and no-one to help me! Nicky's one thing. Off fighting ghosts or whatever. Probably wouldn't do it anyway because he's still pretending to be a cop. But Finn?!" She dipped her voice, already husky, to be much lower. "'Sorry, Honey, would love to loot and pillage like old times, but the bossman needs me'. For **what?!** You work at a museum! There a lot of school field trips going on right now?!"

The wolves fell back, crouching behind untouched shelves.

"Does she seem familiar?" murmured Gary.

Larry blinked, then shrugged.

"I swear I've seen her somewhere…"

"Never mind that." Larry stole another glance at her. "I don't think she should engage her."

"Because she'll beat us up?"

"Because there's nothing to gain from a fight." He sighed, ears back. "And yeah. She might just beat us up."

"She's crazy jacked. Wowsers."

"So let's just-"

A huge crash echoed through the mall.

"What! **Whoisit?!** " The badger was moving in an instant, thundering further into the supermarket. The two wolves stayed low, watching her go.

"Should we follow?" said Gary.

"Absolutely not."

He paused. "…Can we anyway?"

Larry sighed. "Okay," he said. "But let's be quiet."

They crept in Honey's wake. Loud as she was, she was no fool. She slowed to a silent stop and took cover behind a shelf of canned food - the partners did the same, two shelves back, amid the mildly distracting aromas of the dessert section. They all had a good view of what caused the noise.

There was a lion in a shopping cart.

He lay there, his limbs in casts and awkwardly poking out of the cart at different angles. His neck had no support, so the glare he was levelling at the ceiling was probably intended for the wiry lioness kneeling amid shattered glass and hissing bubbles. What had previously been a carefully stacked display of expensive champagne died a fizzy death under her.

"For the last time," said Scar, "take me to a hospital."

"Never! I can't entrust your care to some mere _doctor_." Zira kept scanning the ruins of the display. "I'm the only one who should be looking after you!"

"Demonstrably untrue."

"I got you out of that horrible prison-"

"Despite my firm and _repeated_ disavowal of your actions."

"And soon… Aha!" She stuck a paw into the shattered glass, and it triumphantly emerged with an unbroken bottle. "Soon, we will be enjoying the most romantic night of our lives!"

"It's eight in the morning," said Scar, "I barely remember you, and I _want to go to a hospital._ "

"Love is the **greatest** hospital of all!"

Gary and Larry shared an extremely dubious look. This detour had not been worthwhile.

They were about to disengage - it seemed they all were, judging from how Zira tucked the bottle under Scar's armpit and Honey silently shook her head - when a fresh voice rang out.

"Well, well, well, Banzai… What have we got here?"

They saw Scar instantly tense, those green eyes going wide.

"Hmm, I dunno, Shenzi," came another. "What do you think, Ed?"

Low, uneven laughter bubbled through the shelves. And three hyenas, with outfits and weapons rivalling the wolves', stepped into view.

"Oh," said Scar. He tried a grin. The fact it was upside-down made it even weaker. "Hello…"

"'Oh hello' yourself, you arrogant jerk!" Shenzi had a chain. She was swinging it. "Didn't expect to run into you of all people. We were on our way to mess up Cherryton - y'know, that bougie high school with the drama club?"

"Yeah!" said Banzai. "We're gonna bully some theatre kids!"

"But this? This is _way_ better."

Gary and Larry shared a glance, but before they could communicate anything, Zira stepped forward. "You! What do you want with Scar?"

There was a brief pause as the hyenas realized her question had been entirely genuine. "We're, uh," said Shenzi, "we're gonna hurt him. Real bad. Was that not clear?"

Their hidden audience barely processed the motion. One moment, Zira was standing there, projecting herself between Scar and the hyenas - the next, she was doing the same, but now had a large kitchen knife in each paw. "If you even **look** at Scar I will stab you to death with my knives. I dare you to do it. I _want_ you to do it."

Behind her, his grimace grew. "Stop talking…"

"Yeah! Shut your mouth!" Banzai brandished his crowbar, as Ed produced a crooked lead pipe. "You think you can stop us? It's three against one."

"Bah!" spat Zira. "Three hyenas, versus one **superior** lion!"

There was an immediate chorus of protest from the hyenas, which was echoed silently by the wolves and Honey. "Woah, hey!" said Shenzi, the clearest voice. "You can't just say stuff like that any more! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"There's nothing wrong with _me!"_ declared Zira. "But you? You seem to have a few extra holes in **your** _ **fac-!"**_

Honey stepped out from cover and threw a can of beans at Zira's head.

It was slightly off-target, hitting her shoulder instead, but the surprise of the impact was enough to shake her. " **What!** " She whirled around. "Who _dares_ to-?!"

She barely caught sight of Honey before the three hyenas jumped her.

It was immediate chaos. The hyenas were vicious, but Zira was tougher than her ridiculous demeanour implied. Scar could only lie there and watch as she roared and thrashed, successfully hurling Ed into a heavy shelf even as Shenzi and Banzai tore into her.

Honey charged in with her baseball bat and an absolutely terrifying laugh. Gary instinctively went to follow, but felt a firm paw on his shoulder.

"Don't," hissed Larry.

"But-!"

"We have no stake in this situation." Larry's voice stayed calm. Low and steady despite the screaming. "And seeing her swing that bat around has jogged my memory. We do know that badger. We tried to raid her junkyard when we were with Mister O'Donnell."

"Oh. Oh, you're _right!_ Thanks, that was killing me."

"What's gonna kill you," said Larry, over the sound of Zira using Banzai as a shield against Honey's bat, "is her, if she spots us. We're going. Now."

"You," said Gary, as a flung bottle of champagne sped past his head, "have a point."

They pulled back, quietly putting distance between themselves and the ongoing brawl. Gary shook his head.

"Jeez. What a mess. At least that's the first time we've seen people clawing at each other since this all began."

"Those hyenas are out for Scar's blood," said Larry. "People who want to fight are going to, with or without the ZPD around. Still, if I were them, I'd be a little more cautious about the-"

They turned a corner, and then scrabbled back behind the shelf in perfect synchrony as a dozen drones blew past.

In an instant, the sounds of battle changed. There were twelve new combatants, with hard armour and sharp claws and absolutely no interest in who had started the fight. People were staying indoors for good reason. These things' idea of 'keeping the peace' was anything but peaceful.

Larry steeled himself. "Gary…"

Gary looked back at him with those soft, brown eyes. Pleading.

Larry took a slow breath, and released it. "…Alright."

They charged.

Their time with Lionheart's Night Howler operation, the height of what could charitably be called their 'careers', still informed their every movement. A wolf can only match a large, feral jaguar with training. Equipment. Steady nerves. And above all else, at least one other wolf.

The duo flowed like water. A drone was swiping at Honey and Gary shot it point-blank with his net cannon, and Larry covered him as he quickly reloaded. He fired at the one shrieking at Shenzi, and by then Gary was prepared again, firing a fresh net as Larry reloaded.

They fired three nets each, in perfect rhythm, and six drones hit the supermarket floor. There was no way the nets were physically strong enough to contain them, but their rudimentary programming seemed to struggle with the problem, leaving them clunkily juddering under the nets.

"Effective!" said Gary.

"Too effective," said Larry. "Ration the rest, we might need them later."

"Yeah!"

"Yo, hold up!" Shenzi glared. "Who are _you?!"_

"Who cares!" Honey cracked her bat into a drone's face. "I dunno who any of y'all are!"

The remaining drones fought with mechanical rage, entirely unconcerned that their numbers had been halved in seconds. One lunged at Zira and she grappled with it for a moment before, impressively, burying a knife in its head. The drone sparked and shrieked and went limp. Unfortunately for Zira, she couldn't pry the knife back out.

She flicked her remaining knife from her left hand to her right. "Who **else** w-"

Another drone tackled her to the ground.

Scar watched the chaos unfold from his shopping cart. Honey was battering one drone; the two wolves were unsuccessfully trying to taser another. Zira growled and thrashed under a third, while a fourth was menacing Shenzi and Banzai. Was that all of them?

His answer came in the form of a long shadow. Scar looked up. The drone loomed over him.

He was immobile. All four of his limbs were clearly broken. He was the only mammal here who was unarmed and unresisting. And, true to form, the drone shrieked at him and prepared a fatal strike.

Scar merely sighed. "Well, it's about time."

Those deadly claws gleamed, coming straight for his head-

and never arrived. Someone shouldered the drone out of the way. Scar found himself staring up at Ed.

"You… What?"

Of all the expressions that fought to claim Scar's face, the one that bubbled to the surface was, somehow, a timid smile.

"Ed, my dear friend… after everything that happened between us, you'd really…?"

Ed planted both paws on the cart's handles.

"Ed?"

He pushed. And ran.

" **Ed!** No no no no-!"

Shenzi managed to trip the drone she was fighting, smashing its head into the hard metal shelves. The sound of echoing laughter caught her attention, and she and Banzai noticed what Ed was doing. "Great idea! Wait up!" They ran after him.

With a mighty roar, Zira dislodged her own drone, burying her second knife into its eye. She, too, realized what was happening. "No! He's _mine_ , do you hear me? _**Mine!**_ "

Scar and Ed trundled away at speed, disappearing around a corner. And then Shenzi and Banzai were gone, and so was Zira, and it was just Gary, Larry and Honey smashing the remaining drones.

Gary glanced to his partner. "Should we-?"

" _No._ "

"Yeah, good call."

"Heads up!" Larry's ear flicked, and he turned in time to catch what Honey had tossed to him. Banzai's crowbar, abandoned on the floor. "You might have better luck with this!" she yelled.

"Uh, thanks!"

He turned back, just in time to see a drone was charging at him - and to see Gary wrap his arms around its neck and slam it straight into the floor. Larry seized his chance, working the crowbar into the seams on its head. With a sudden clatter, its face-plate came loose, exposing an ugly tangle of wires and lights.

"Oh. Gross." With his other hand, Larry stabbed his taser into exposed wiring. The drone went dead.

"Nice one!" Gary rolled off it, back on his feet and ready for more. "Let's clear the rest out!"

They did. Honey hit hard, and the wolves quickly learned how to incorporate her into their own rhythms. Before long, they had managed to disable the last drones without the sound of battle attracting more.

" _Hoo…!_ " Honey planted her bat against the ground, learning against it leisurely. "That was some nice work, boys. Appreciate the assist."

"No problem!" smiled Gary. "Happy to do it."

Larry just grunted.

The two of them methodically dealt with the drones trapped under nets. They would be an immediate threat if they got loose, so Larry crowbarred them and Gary tasered them, and within a minute every drone was still.

Honey gave them both a smile. "I ain't done out here, actually. You feel like sticking with me for a bit? You help me with my thing, I'll help you with yours…"

They shared a look. Gary had steered their actions plenty already, so he let Larry answer. "That makes a certain amount of sense, but no. It's smarter to avoid the patrols in the first place. That's easier to do in smaller groups."

"Awh, really?" Honey's smile didn't waver. "Y'all don't think you owe me one after what you did?"

They both tensed, ears tall and eyes wide. And she burst out laughing.

" **Hah!** Relax, boys. We all gotta survive capitalism. I won't hold it against you." She spun her bat around. Playfully. " _If_ you lend me a paw."

Another shared look. Another silent conversation. And Larry sighed. "This is turning into quite the grocery run… Okay, fine. We can spare a couple minutes."

"Great! I get first dibs on stuff - tryna improve my podcasting setup and believe me that junk is _expensive_ \- but you can grab whatever you want, too!"

"Hooray!" said Gary. "Let's get a proper microphone. That's a good investment."

"Gary, you can't call it an 'investment' if you steal it…"

She led them back to her cart, casually chatting about her plans to cover her tracks if and when the ZPD ever resumed control of the city. But she went quiet again - they all did - as they closed in.

There was a voice coming from her cart.

" _Uh, hello?_ "

They closed the distance silently - but relaxed again. The supermarket was still empty. The voice was coming from a radio Honey had pilfered.

" _Can anyone hear this? …Yeah, Max, the little light is green, so it should be, uh…_ "

"Huh," said Honey. "I just grabbed that 'cause it looked retro. Had no idea it was on. Or it'd, uh… work."

"Phones and internet are still patchy at best," noted Larry. "Stands to reason someone would set up older networks."

" _If you can hear this… we need your help. Just for a little while. Just for today. I know everybody's really scared right now - believe me, um, I am too! But… we have a plan. We're almost ready. And we just need a few more bodies to make it happen. Uh, p… please, Zootopia. If you're out there._ "

Gary stood there for a moment. Watching the radio with his brown eyes. Thoughtful.

Then he reached out and answered it.


	21. A Meteoropic Entrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 08:17

* * *

"Oh my god I just realized how stupid this is."

Nick rubbed his eyes. Not just because of the bright morning sun.

They were ready. As ready as anyone could be for a plan like this. Nick's breakfast had gone down well. He and Judy were joined by Bentley and Murray, still steady and alert despite the night's work; by Fox, cheerful as ever as the tiredness slowly left his eyes; and by Sly and Carmelita, who seemed to be in high spirits. And a bit dishevelled.

But after a lovely meal surprisingly light on tactical discussion, it was time to get moving. Somehow.

"I mean, I already knew it was stupid. It was patently obvious that the whole thing was stupid. But actually seeing it in front of me…"

"It's, uh…"

Judy stood next to him on the tarmac, and together they took in the fruits of the overnight labour. There was a fighter jet. There was a lot of sturdy-looking rigging attached to the fighter jet. And the rigging was attaching the jet to a big, blocky van.

"It sure is something," she said, lacking anything else to say.

"Like…" Nick gestured vaguely with one hand. "I think if this works, part of me is going to be _angry_. If I get to go to space, in a van towed by a very fast airplane, I'm just going to be… upset."

"Then don't."

They both jumped. Carmelita's time among thieves showed. She had appeared behind them silently.

"Um, sorry to startle you." After a brief lapse, she slipped her businesslike Inspector Fox face back on. "But I'm serious. You've both been a big help so far. But you can leave at any point. You realize that, don't you?"

"And go where?"

Judy turned to face her, arms folded.

"I want to be back in Zootopia," she said bluntly. "That's where Nick and I _should_ be. But we aren't. And it looks like we're locked out. Right now, my options are either go home and stay in my childhood bedroom…"

"Bringing me with her, I guess," said Nick, "since _my_ childhood bedroom is off-limits…"

"Or actually do something, here, with you." Judy's stance was firm. "That's no choice at all."

"Besides," said Nick, carefully nonchalant. "If you guys get there, and it turns out the only way to stop the bad guys is with a last-minute, two-person improv comedy routine, you're gonna be _really_ embarrassed you didn't bring me and Carrots along. That's our whole thing, y'know."

"Oh, you provide a little more than that." Carmelita was smiling now, though her folded arms were solid. "Still. This is going to be extremely dangerous. We haven't even found you decent weapons."

"Pssh. Like that's ever stopped us. Need I remind you our defining victory involved a blueberry, a novelty pen, and _nothing_ else? We'll take a page out of Sly's book. We'll see what weird science junk is there, and use it against him."

"The only two weapons I need," added Judy, planting her fists on her hips, "are right here."

Carmelita nodded. "Well then. I'm… Let me just say I'm glad you're here."

"Feeling's mutual," said Judy warmly.

"Yeah," said Nick. "It really is."

"Hi, guys!"

Before things could get any mushier - to Nick and Carmelita's relief, and Judy's mild disappointment - their pilot joined them.

"How are you all doing?"

"Just fine, Fox." Carmelita turned her attention to him. "And you? This is a huge ask, even for a pilot of your skill. Nervous?"

"Not at all! I'm excited to get started!"

Fox looked as bright and vivid as ever, refreshed and grinning. His green eyes shone.

"I know this is going to be hard. But I'm sure I can do it. After all…" He beamed. "It's not rocket science!"

"Hooray! Fox made a joke!" Nick matched his grin. Briefly. "That was a joke, right?"

"Yes!"

"Hooray! Fox made a joke!" Nick matched his grin. "I'm genuinely proud of you, buddy. And now I know a fellow comedian is handling this, I'm suddenly much more at ease."

About eight seconds later, Nick had entered the Van.

"I am no longer at ease!"

Four more seats had been welded into place in a rough circle. This included makeshift seatbelts, seemingly involving as much rigging as there was between the Van and the plane. Ironically, for all the high-speed chases it had weathered back here, Bentley's wheelchair couldn't be safely secured for the trip. The vibration alone threatened to rattle it apart, so it had been folded away, ready for a quick assembly on the other side. Bentley himself sat in the Van's actual passenger seat, alongside Murray. Their seatbelts had been similarly enhanced, and it looked similarly horrifying.

Sly stood near his brothers, turning to give the newcomers a smile. "Come on in. Ready to go?"

"No," said Nick. "God, no. Not remotely. Not ever. But I guess it's time."

"Boy, that's the spirit…"

Carmelita strode for a seat and began to strap herself in, trying to set an example. "Let's get started. Sly, can you make sure I've got this right?"

"Gladly~."

Murray watched them over his shoulder. Carmelita, Nick and Judy were soon secured, Sly tending to himself last. "Okay! Everyone comfortable?"

There was a vague chorus.

"Alright!" said Murray. "And don't worry about a thing. In case this doesn't work, Fox let me install the parachute from his jet into the Van. We can get back down no problem."

"You took the… parachute?" said Nick. "For the pilot?"

"No, silly. There was another, bigger parachute. For the whole plane!"

"The whole plane."

"Yeah."

"The whole small, sleek fighter jet. Instead of the big blocky van."

"Yeah!"

Nick decided he didn't want to pull on this thread.

Carmelita cut across him anyway. "Bentley? Are you ready?"

"Almost…"

He sat there, his laptop at the ready.

"Although I could _swear_ I'm forgetting something…"

"Oh, that's good to hear," said Sly lightly.

"Try to focus," said Carmelita. If she was nervous, she didn't show it. "I'm sure a lot of preparation went into this, but I trust you wouldn't let us on until you were ready."

"Yeah," said Bentley. "Right."

Like Murray, he turned in his seat to address them.

"It's normally my job to bring up the unpleasant realities. I need to stress… We could die."

He spoke slowly.

"We could all be dead in a few minutes. Everyone needs to understand that. There's no shame in leaving, so… Does anyone want to get out?"

Silence.

"Everyone's willing to come along?"

Another chorus. This one without a hint of vagueness.

"Alright. With that out of the way…"

He returned to his laptop.

"I'm commencing the sequence."

Fox's voice crackled over their earpieces. "Beginning take-off procedures here! Are you guys ready?"

"We're all secured," answered Carmelita. "Fox?"

"Yes?"

"Please - _try_ to be gentle."

"Copy that!"

About thirty seconds passed in near silence. The only sound was Bentley's rapid typing in the front seat.

"…Hey, Carrots?"

"Nick?"

"I ever mention how I'm _deathly_ afraid of rollercoasters?"

"Oh **n-!** "

A roar cut the air.

The Van was many things, but it was not soundproof. As Fox's jet engines ramped up, a wall of noise rolled back.

Sly grinned. It seemed genuine. "Great start!"

They could see the jet through the front window, steadily and purposefully coming to life. And then, without preamble, it began to roll forward.

The Van stayed still for a moment, and then it began to trundle after it.

Murray - silently thankful he had remembered to leave the handbrake off - gave the barest amount of acceleration. With the steady pull of the jet, there really wasn't much point having the engine on. But that comforting modicum of control made Murray feel better, and he tried to spread that calmness to the others.

They were picking up speed. Fast.

The jet was speeding down the runway and the Van matched it, tyres sturdy. There was a minimum of wobbling. So far. And Fox smoothly began to bank up.

His wheels left the ground. And so did theirs.

There was a lurch, and everyone tensed. But the rigging held. The Van was flying.

"It's working!" Fox's smile was obvious in his voice. "I'll up the speed!"

Nick's sarcastic comment didn't make it past his throat.

Above them, the jet roared, merry and bestial. Fox was, as ever, a professional. Despite the awkward bulk of the Van weighing him down, he ascended smoothly, cleanly. A steadily sharper upward angle. The engines strained, but they held. And the airbase disappeared into the distance. They rose higher and higher into the endless winter sky.

Nick was worryingly still and Judy was joyously kicking her little legs and everyone else fell somewhere in between. Murray's fingers drummed along the steering wheel. His voice stayed firm despite the vibration. "How's it going, Bentley?"

" _Exactly_ as I hoped!" Bentley's hands were fast and relentless. "Thanks to Sly and Judy's work with the signal boosters, I've established a direct link with Andross' accelerator!"

Carmelita gritted her teeth, assailed by nausea and sudden doubt. "What if - he just - turns it - _off?!"_

"Not to worry. I have full control of the system - even a power outage can't stop us if we time this right." Bentley pressed a finger to his ear. "Fox!"

"Hello!"

"We'll make the jump in just a few seconds - are you ready?"

"Always!"

The Van lurched, again, harder. Their seatbelts held, but Carmelita thought hers was suddenly looser.

"Just in time," added Fox. "I don't think the engines can hold…!"

Bentley's glasses shone. "I won't delay."

Judy grinned, lost in the moment - but felt something touching her. Nick's paw, desperately searching for hers. Without hesitation, she held his hand, squeezing tightly-

and in that moment, it happened.

It was sudden. That only made sense, given what they had already seen. Still, Sly had expected more pomp and circumstance. Bright lights. Loud noise. A building crescendo, appropriate for such blatant disrespect of the laws of physics.

Instead, it was mostly physical. One second, they were rattling and juddering as the jet increasingly struggled with their weight. The next, there was no movement. And, for that matter, no weight.

Sly felt his long tail drift upwards. His hat lazily wandered from his head. And, despite the circumstances, his soul felt just as light.

They all had to blink, because the change in lighting had been so drastic. It had been a bright morning, and it still was. Below them. But now, they were engulfed by darkness. With the exception of countless glittering lights and the very large space station in front of them, of course. Blocky, with an odd sphere dominating its centre. Exactly like the blueprints.

At the bottom - or, at least, at the part nearest the calm globe beneath them - a hangar door sat open.

They were silent. As silent as the glittering void around them. For the first time in its long and storied career, the Van felt fragile. A little bubble in a deep, dark ocean.

But Murray's work paid off. They were safe. At least for as long as it took for Fox's engines to politely cough themselves back to life. He tipped the jet forward, and it gently drifted inside.

It kept drifting, the Van drifting along with it, through the hangar doors. In moments, they had fully entered Bolse Defence Outpost. The weightless feeling left them, ending abruptly like an interrupted daydream. Artificial gravity.

The hangar was white and pristine. The business end of the accelerator loomed above, a huge black circle built into the ceiling. It was the only splash of colour… aside from the grim gray angles of the Clockwerk Jet. Seeing that ghastly monster immediately soured the moment. But just as suddenly, their mood reversed again, as Fox slowed the engines to almost nothing. Gently, with the touch of an artisan, he lowered the Van. The tyres hit the floor. Solid.

Then, with a similarly light touch, he set his plane down in the gap between them and the Jet. The engines whirred to a stop, the sound fading to silence. Behind them, the airlock closed.

They had made it.

Judy cheered first, but it spread instantly, their fear and anxiety boiling over immediately into sheer joy. Against the odds, they had made it. Their ridiculous, probably fatal plan had actually worked. They were in space.

Carmelita let them savour the moment for as long as she felt was appropriate. But they still had a mission, and soon, her voice caught their attention. Back down to earth, so to speak. "Is everyone okay? No injuries?"

There was a general murmur affirming the group's health.

"What about equipment?" she pressed. "Did anything break?"

"It all seems fine, Carmelita…" Bentley pressed a finger to his ear. He frowned, tried again, and frowned harder. "Except our communications."

"My phone's down, too…" reported Judy.

"Possibly caused by our proximity to the Global Nullifier. Or maybe because we're now on the _wrong side_ of major satellites."

"Whatever the cause…" Carmelita was already freeing herself from her seat. "Well. I was going to say 'let's try not to split up', but I don't want to limit our tactical options. We need to get our hands on Andross. Whatever it takes."

"I don't think I like the sound of that," murmured Nick.

"You shouldn't. But remember our goal." Carmelita readied her pistol with two short, sharp motions. "Wolf and Penelope are extremely dangerous, but they're both just here for a paycheque. Andross is the priority. We find him, we corner him, and we take him down."

Sly met her gaze. "And when you say 'take him down'…"

"I _mean_ take him down. Arrest him and break his inventions."

"We'll see," he said.

"Nothing fancy, right?" said Nick, cutting in quickly. "In terms of strategy?"

"We can expect heavy resistance," said Carmelita, "but it's hard to say what kind. Just remember: we outnumber Andross. That's our advantage."

Judy's ears perked. "Speaking of heavy resistance-!"

They soon heard it too. A welcoming committee burst through the huge doors leading out of the hangar. Drones. Dozens.

" **On me!** " yelled Carmelita, leading Sly and Judy and Nick out of the Van.

"Wait, buy us some time!" said Murray. "We gotta stick Bentley's wheelchair back together first-!"

Carmelita kept her pistol up, but the drones didn't come for them. They swept around, filling the edges of the room. Encircling them. The other three stuck close, watching every angle. Beside them, the jet's cockpit sprang open, and Fox dropped down next to them.

"Hello!"

"Great flying, Fox," said Carmelita, "but we've got no time to celebrate. Be ready." Fox nodded, drawing his own pistol.

"Should we try to make a run for the-?" Sly cut himself off, watching the only exit - aside from the airlock back out to space, of course - closing shut again. "Nevermind. Step one is opening that door."

"I think," said Carmelita, her eyes never leaving the drones, "that's step two."

The drones surrounded them. They hovered there for a moment, long enough for Bentley to emerge from the Van, his wheelchair reassembled. He and Murray joined the others in their huddle.

A screen above the door lit up. Andross looked down at them. And all seven of them groaned.

"Hello to you too."

Andross seemed a bit bleary, as though he had recently woken up. He did his utmost to muster his usual tones.

"You continue to be a truly impressive nuisance. You can't imagine my surprise when my precious accelerator began powering up by itself." He forced a grin. "Naturally, in the spirit of _fair play_ , I ensured the hangar doors would be open for you."

Bentley was unimpressed. "Hardly. You just knew that if the accelerator activated while the doors were _closed_ , the supercharge would blow a hole straight through the station and kill us _and_ you."

Andross' grin froze, corpse-like, as he failed to form a reply.

Carmelita, meanwhile, turned very slowly to Bentley. "Why," she said, "are we only hearing this now?"

Bentley shrugged. "I _did_ say we might all die. Either way, mission accomplished, right?"

"Ha ha," said Sly, "you're terrifying, Bentley."

"Enough."

Andross' expression had soured.

"You are here because I deigned it, but you will go no further. I have ample means to end your little crusade right here. I suggest you show some tact; I still haven't decided whether or not I'll allow your names to actually enter the history books." His smile was forced and spiteful. "After all, 'Emperor Andross was wholly unconcerned when six fools tried to stop him' sounds more than sufficient, wouldn't you say?"

Judy stared. "…Six?"

"Yes. Six," said Andross, as she glanced around. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you can't even count. At least Officer Wilde was smart enough to bow out gracefully. Out of all of you, he is clearly the onl-"

Fox's jet suddenly roared to life. And its standard-issue machine guns tore through the drones in front of it.

That was all the incentive the rest needed. Carmelita screamed a command, drowned out by the gunfire, but they didn't need to hear it to follow it. They broke, destroying as many drones as possible before they could react. Avoiding the front of the jet, of course.

Fox and Carmelita fired at different angles as Sly and Judy went in low, distracting drones and dodging their attacks. Bentley had brought as many bombs as he could, but it was still a finite amount, so he kept a careful eye out for opportunities when several targets grouped together. Murray was in his element. Drone after drone found that out fist-first.

In the jet, Nick kept his thumb on the firing mechanism. This was the same make and model as the one he had briefly shared with Sly, so he already knew the basic layout. His main concern with firing the machine guns was that their position was fixed. Thankfully, the drones were _very_ dumb, and kept flying directly into them.

Then the stream of bullets was abruptly replaced with a stream of quiet _clicks_ , and Nick had a new concern.

Instantly, he was swarmed. Drones crowded the glass, battering at it, trying to worm their claws inside. Nick reached for a lever he dearly hoped he wasn't misinterpreting and pulled hard. The cockpit popped open, catapulting drones in every direction. Nick laughed.

Drones kept rushing in and now there was no protective glass surrounding him so the laugh didn't last long.

He threw himself out of the jet, staying low. All he had to do was come up with another great idea. And not get torn in half.

"Nick, heads up!"

Judy flew in, grabbing at a drone that was coming for him. She wrapped herself around its eyes, blinding it.

"You're doing great!"

"Uh, thanks!" He blinked. "How are you?!"

"Honestly-"

The drone shrieked and flew straight upwards.

She had time to process Nick's face, eyes wide, and then she was high above the battle. The drone wasn't slowing an inch. She panicked and threw herself off, seconds before it crashed into the ceiling.

Instinctively, Judy angled for the shortest drop, landing on a little ledge above the huge doors. Safe. She glanced around the battlefield, scanning for orange. There was Nick, and there was a drone swiping at him, and there was Murray punching the drone so hard it spun. Situation contained.

Before she could work out a way back down, someone spoke behind her. "Officer Hopps!"

She yelled, turning. The screen was still on. And Andross, his face stretched and far too close, was his usual self.

"Please, listen to reason. I know how much you value peace and order. The sooner we end this needless fighting, the sooner I can restore your beloved city!"

"I do value peace." Her eyes narrowed. "But not as much as I value justice."

He rolled his eyes.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said. "Why are you so convinced you can reason with us after you kidnapped my partner?"

"As I explained," he growled, "that was an unfortunate error, not an intentional act of aggression. If you would just-"

"You attacked City Hall with explosives!" she snapped. "You could've _killed_ the mayor, or worse, her young son!"

"That was a _symbolic_ gesture, and it would have functioned as such if the Lionheart administration had actually maintained the structure as the official paperwork claims they did. Which, might I add, is precisely the kind of-"

"And now," she yelled, indicating earthward with one hand, "my 'beloved city' is under your thumb! Your violent, ugly robots are terrorising people, and you _still_ think you have the high ground!"

"Because I **do!** This is all for their benefit! It's not my fault if the populace is too emotionally-"

" _No._ " Judy met his gaze, her eyes purple fire. "That right there? That's your exact problem."

Even with the battle raging under her, Judy's voice was clear. Unbending.

"I have done," she said, "some awful things. I went on live television and passed off my personal prejudice as science. I've mishandled too much police work, and… and I've taken my best friend for granted more times than I can count. I've made mistakes."

He sniffed. "You and I are not the same."

"Apparently not. But it's not a matter of who's smarter. _Everyone_ makes mistakes. Everyone has moments where they succumb to anger or doubt or just a lapse in judgement. But those are the moments we _grow_. When I did those terrible things, I was forced to realize what I had done. To feel that guilt, that shame, and promise myself I would do better next time."

She was resolute, drawing on every fibre of authority she had.

"You're so convinced you're always right. But life is about being wrong."

Andross paused for a second - just to draw breath for a heavy scoff. "Mindless platitudes. Nothing more."

Judy rolled her eyes. She saw Murray punch another drone - which caught sight of her as it realigned itself. It flew towards her with a shriek.

She glanced back to Andross, undaunted.

"Look, buddy, if you're gonna keep talking but never try listening, do everyone a favour and just _shut up_."

At the last possible second, she casually leaned out of the way of those deadly claws - and watched with satisfaction as Andross flinched, caught off guard. The drone slammed into the screen, destroying it, and was left firmly embedded in the wall.

"Glad that trick still works." Satisfied it was stuck, Judy slid down the length of the drone, straight onto another's head.

She was happy to abandon the civil discourse for something she always had far more passion for; throwing herself recklessly into a fight.


	22. The One Place Uncorrupted By Capitalism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 08:27
> 
> -
> 
> Struck from my height, my rage curtailed.  
> Hatred imploding like a star.  
> My shadow lives. We both have failed.  
> Intellect with no avatar.
> 
> Into my Fileactery.

* * *

Murray grabbed the drone and threw it to the floor, and before it could stand Fox sank two clean shots into it. It crumpled.

" **Alright!** " Murray hefted his armoured fists. "Who _else_ wants to…?!"

He trailed off. That was the last one.

"Sound off!" Carmelita stood atop a smoking drone. "Is everyone alright?"

They were. Their strategies for containing and destroying the drones seemed to be working. Nick leaned against the jet, shooting Fox an apologetic smile. It was met with a grin.

"Good." Carmelita kept her tone brisk. Commanding. It was mostly out of habit. They'd listen either way. "Let me remind you that we can't leave this station except on our own terms. Retreat is literally not an option." She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder, towards the airlock. "So since we can't go that way…"

She nodded to the huge doors across from them.

"It's time we went deeper."

"On it!" Sly flashed her a grin, already heading for the door. "It's what I'm here for…"

Judy regrouped with the foxes, watching with interest as Sly worked. He moved with such confidence, breezily backed by years of painful experience. He needed access to a panel, and Murray tore it open. He needed guidance with a wire, and Bentley's answer was instant. Sly's hands were steady, and quick. And the door opened.

" _Voilá_."

"Excellent." As they pressed forward, Carmelita gave him a smile, which he returned. So much nicer than days gone by. She could get used to this.

But she couldn't relax. Not now. She took point, pistol at the ready. The others fell in behind her, and they tackled the first of several long, white corridors.

At first, it was quiet. Bentley had little patience for the clichés of action movie dialogue, but he did, in fact, consider it to be _too_ quiet. He kept between Sly and Murray and just tried to stay sharp.

And then his earpiece crackled.

He was instantly on edge, even before the voice came through. Faux-polite and all too familiar. "Heya, Bentley."

"Penelope."

Sly and Murray stopped immediately, watching Bentley with concern.

He wasn't in the mood. "Let me just remove my earpiece-"

"And make me use the speakers? You might not want to include your friends in this conversation…"

"Ugh. Fine." He kept wheeling himself forward - reluctantly, Sly and Murray followed, sticking closer. "Just get it over with."

"Hey, lookit that. For once we're on the same page. Andross has been on my tail for being 'unproductive', but I reckon I can win back some points by getting all of _you_ over with."

This corridor was as uniform as all the others. Cramped and featureless. Lacking anything better to look at, Bentley's eyes settled on the natural swing of Wilde's long tail.

"Decent showing so far," conceded Penelope. "Although force-starting the accelerator has kinda destabilised it… Whatever. I'm guessing you cracked into the computer data back at Titania Airbase?"

"The obvious conclusion."

"Knew it. Warned him it'd happen, but I was ignored, of course. Tell me - what else did you find? Aside from the accelerator, which of Andross' weird toys do you know about?"

Her tone was casual. His wasn't. "Surely you realize that divulging any amount of tactical information, no matter how seemingly trivial, would be-"

"Oh my god. Stop talking. I was doing a bit."

He heard her sigh.

"Well, if you're too paranoid to give me the setup, I guess I'll do it myself. There's this station, the Clockwerk Jet, the accelerator. There's the Global Nullifier. But what about the drones? Didn't you wonder where they all came from?"

"Obviously."

"Heh. Tetchy. Doesn't add up, right? Well, fact is, there's one last device up here in that weight class. One you _apparently_ didn't learn about."

Bentley tried to ignore the chill that went down his shell. They did not need a change in the variables. Not now.

She was clearly enjoying this. "Andross - being Andross - called it ' _the MacBeth engine_ ', because a machine is only as good as its dumb, dramatic name. But I gotta admit, it's an interesting concept. You might've seen it when you flung yourselves up here; it's the round thing suspended in the centre of the station, out of the artificial gravity. It's able to use the zero-g conditions to put together blueprints with stunning efficiency. Hard to get it _into_ space, of course, but once you're here anyway…"

"Oh," said Bentley, "like the Nova Crucible in the first _Paladins of the Ancient Commonwealth_ game?"

"Yes! **Exactly** like-!" Penelope suddenly cut herself off with a cough. "I mean, whatever. Dumb analogy, but sure."

Ahead of them, Carmelita held up a fist. An open door. They waited as she peered around the corner.

"There's only one path to Andross, y'know," Penelope was saying. "This is a space station, not a city block. No sneaking around this time - you have to take the direct approach. And we both know I am _so_ much better at that than you. Especially when I have the right… tools."

Carmelita signalled them closer. It looked like a backup airlock, built deeper into the station for safety. A small room with two parallel doors. Their side was open. The other was sealed.

They wouldn't be able to turn back.

But that had never been an option. After the briefest hesitation, they filed into the chamber. Ready for whatever came next.

"I can't wait for you to see my work!" chirped Penelope. "So don't keep a gal waiting. Oh, and Bentley?"

Low. Flat. "What."

" _Try_ to put on a show."

The first door sealed, tightly. The second opened. They stepped out into a wide, circular room. And stopped.

Penelope had recreated some familiar faces.

There was the Black Baron, with his black aviator's garb and red scarf and opaque goggles - an outfit one might only realize in retrospect showed no skin or fur at all. There was the Black Knight, with its hulking suit of black armour and its huge, daunting axe. And there was the Black Phantasm, hovering in mid-air, its dark and tattered robes drawing attention to the gleaming silver of its mask, of its bladed hand.

This would have already been a problem, had there not been thirty of them. Each.

They were arranged in formation, thirty Barons before thirty Knights under thirty Phantasms. And with perfect, robotic unison, every Baron caught his left fist with his right hand, cracked his neck with a whirr of gears, and spoke.

" **You have no** _ **idea**_ **what kind of trouble you are in.** "

This was a shock.

Drones had been one thing. They were almost used to those thin, feral owls. But these looked tougher. Nick stared at the Phantasms. Judy frowned at the Knights. Even Sly's breezy confidence faltered as he recalled, very vividly, just how hard the Baron had once punched him in the face.

Before anyone else could react, Carmelita strode forward. Calmly - boots solid - she raised her pistol.

"Alright. Me first."

She fired.

That first blast shattered the tension - and caught a Baron in the face. It seized up, mechanical limbs juddering, but its eighty-nine brothers were already charging.

They were met with a counter-charge.

The seven stuck close, with Carmelita and Fox and Bentley firing into the oncoming black tide as Sly and Murray readied their weapons. As ever, Judy was the fastest, and as ever, faced this deadly challenge with bright eyes and a grin.

A Baron saw her coming and readied a metal fist. She just shot past. Deeper and deeper, robots halting their charge to awkwardly watch her. Robots that became easy targets for her friends.

She was wondering if she'd even _need_ to kick anything when a hand shot out and grabbed her.

The Baron could move faster than it looked. This one had a tight grip on her leg. Getting tighter. Judy had a brief moment of panic, but one sharp breath and she was back.

She leapt onto its face.

She wrestled with it, dodging its free hand, and waited for her moment. It came when she felt a huge shadow fall on them both. She pried her leg free, she waited…

And when the big, stupid Knight's big, stupid axe came down, it caught the Baron, not her. She leapt free in time to admire the swing.

Judy landed in the midst of absolute chaos. The others had crashed into the robots, and the battle raged around her. She began to catch her breath - and her ears shot up.

Judy threw herself backwards just in time to dodge a Phantasm's bladed hand. Even without its invisibility, the design was unnervingly silent; her only warning had been the subtle _whoosh_ of the blade. But her balance was off now, and that gleaming silver mask stared into her soul as it prepared a killing blow-

An orange blur tackled it.

Judy watched Nick, his eyes wild, force the Phantasm down with every thread of power in his wiry body. With a snarl, he grabbed its bladed arm and wrenched and wrenched and _**wrenched**_ until the whole thing tore off. The Phantasm could only judder pathetically under his knee as he shoved the blade under its mask and popped it clean off. Then he stabbed it, over and over, with its own limb.

"Uh, Nick?" Judy had to raise her voice. " _Nick!_ Stop! It's already broken!"

His strikes slowed, eventually, and he left the blade stabbed into its sparkling head. He knelt there for a moment, catching his breath.

She drew in. "You alright…?"

"That," said Nick, chest still heaving, "was _very_ cathartic."

"I'm not sure your therapist would approve."

"Oh, me neither."

"Nick!"

They both looked up in time to see Carmelita neatly sidestep the axe-swing of a Knight. She blasted it in the helmet until crisp smoke began to trickle out and it collapsed.

"Take this." She threw her pistol over - Nick was still kneeling, but Judy caught it for him. "You're a better shot than me, and we need to clear the air of those things." She smirked. "Work out some aggression."

"Gladly." He glanced over the pistol quickly, refamiliarising himself with the powerful weapon. "What about you, though?"

"I've got broader combat training."

They watched her bend down and, with difficulty, pull the axe out of the Knight's cold, steel hands. She hefted it over her shoulder.

"I'll make do."

"What a woman!" said Judy, watching Carmelita charge at a Baron.

"Yeah…" murmured Nick, as a Phantasm swooped behind him. He blew it out of the sky. Then another. And another.

It was a numbers game. Specifically, the number was thirty times three, and it was getting smaller. The Knights were huge and heavy, but the Phantasms were small and light. Their main advantage had been stealth, and without their expensive invisibility cloak, they were easy to destroy. Nick and Fox thinned the air, and the others could all handle any that swooped down, if they were careful about those sweeping blades.

The Barons fell in between. Faster than Knights and tougher than Phantasms. Sly hit one with his cane, fast and hard and constant, until it finally stopped moving. Penelope must have cut costs to mass produce them. This was easier than the fight he remembered.

But not _much_ easier.

"This isn't working!" Murray hefted a Baron and used it, all of it, to block a Knight's axe-swing. "I'm the _last_ guy to run from a fight-"

"But we need to keep moving!" agreed Bentley. He slid a bomb along the floor and damaged the Knight's relatively weaker legs. Murray pushed it aside. "She could send in more at any moment! Where's the exit?!"

Another Knight swung for Sly, who calmly ran up along its weapon and arm and perched briefly on its head. "That way!" he pointed. "Don't see a lock, though - you need to pry it open!"

"Buy me some time!" yelled Murray.

They did. Nick and Fox fired into the crowd, thinning their numbers, as Murray charged his way to the door.

"I'll cover you," said Bentley, hefting a bomb. "Everyone, get moving!"

Murray slammed his fingers under the thick metal, heaving it open slowly. A gap began to emerge, little by little. Judy was first, easily slipping through, and Carmelita squeezed in after her, jettisoning the heavy axe. Nick and Fox followed, slowly, firing as they went. Sly went next.

Then stopped.

"Murray?" He turned. "The door's not opening any further - how are you two gonna-?"

"We aren't!" he said. "Go ahead!"

Sly stared. "But - you said you wanted to stick together."

"No," he said, "I said I wanted us to all come _out_ of this together. You gotta get the others to Andross. And when you do, and you win, you'll come right back here and we'll leave together. That's what I meant!"

"But-"

"No buts! Time's wasting!"

"He's right," called Bentley. "Andross is the priority. You get everyone else through the base - we'll slow down Penelope."

Sly hesitated. "I… I really feel bad about leaving you two behind."

"Good!" grinned Murray. "You should!"

And with that he let the door slam closed.

Sly started, then pressed himself against the door. "Murray! Bentley!"

"See?" came Murray's muffled voice. "That's how **that** feels! It sucks!! But, y'know…"

He didn't need to finish for Sly to understand. He understood both sides of this door now. "Be safe," he called. "I'll be back."

"Yeah," said Murray. "We know you will."

And with that, Sly heard them leaving. Deeper into danger. Without him.

He felt a small hand on his shoulder. The others were all watching him, but Judy had drifted up close, eyes soft. "I'm sorry. I'm sure this is hard."

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, it is."

He turned, hazel eyes focused.

"Just not as _hard_ as I'm gonna beat Andross."

"That's the spirit," said Carmelita drily. "Take point and let's go."

He did. Sly moved with silent precision, a shadow with purpose. They fell in behind him, Nick and Judy and Fox orbiting around Carmelita. Nick caught her eye and offered her pistol back. She took it with a nod.

Sly made quick work of the corridors. No camera or security system could slow him as he led them deeper into the beast. They came to another sealed door, and he stopped them. They waited as he easily scaled up to a small grate and peered inside.

After a moment, he dropped back down. "Pretty sure this is the right place," he murmured. "Not Andross' lab, but the entrance to it, I mean. Just be careful. Looks like the perfect spot for an ambush."

"Noted," said Carmelita. "We move as one. Fox, watch the left flank - I'll take the right. Nick, the rear. Ears up, Judy."

Nods all around. Sly reached over to pick the lock, saw the door was unlocked, and picked it anyway to be safe.

They entered. The room mostly consisted of a single, flat platform, suspended in mid-air. Very suspended. The walls went down and just kept going, indefinitely, eventually giving up in darkness. The platform didn't even connect to their entrance, forcing them to silently jump across this endless pit. On the opposite end, there was a similar gap to an elevator.

They moved carefully, alert for any sound, watching every direction. Except one.

Judy's ear flicked, too late, at the sound of rushing air, and then Wolf slammed into Sly from above.

Sly's skull cracked into the cold metal below as a huge weight hit him. At speed. He heard the others yell, the sounds of combat instantly in the air. He lay on the floor. He needed a second.

Wolf was ruthless, vicious, quick. He made his priority grabbing Carmelita's pistol and ripping it out of her hand, flinging it into the elevator. Those doors sealed shut, as did the entrance. Disarmed. Trapped.

Carmelita growled and threw a punch, but he simply caught her wrist. And squeezed. Her eyes widened. Her first brush with his newfound strength, and it was… _definite_.

"Let **go!** " Judy shouldered his knee, trying to topple him, and he ignored her. He ignored Nick, too, leaping up to wrap an arm around his neck. He didn't even glance in their direction. He knew Carmelita was the leader. The main threat.

His other hand closed around her throat.

And just like that, Sly was on his feet again, bringing his cane down on Wolf's head with a roar. That, with a fresh shove from Judy and full-bodied twist from Nick, finally got Wolf to stumble. Carmelita sucked in whatever breath she could and drew up both legs and slammed her boots into his stomach.

She fell. He growled for a moment, as the other three continued to hammer at him.

"You people," said Wolf, "annoy me."

Then his hand shot out and hit Sly so hard his teeth rattled, and before he could even process the pain Wolf was grabbing his shirt and hurling him forward. Towards the edge. Past it.

He fell.

Sly had a final instant to see them all before the platform disappeared, replaced by smooth, uniform walls and an endless, endless drop. There was no acrobatics, no athleticism, that could solve this. He would keep falling, maybe forever. And he would die.

Gravity took him, tilting him backwards. And from the platform above him came a very reckless rabbit.

Of course she had dove after him. And he didn't even have the chance to yell at her. Always partners. Ever a package deal. Nick was right behind her.

Judy's hands closed around Sly's cane, and Nick grabbed both of Judy's ankles in one paw, and then Sly lurched. He hung there for a moment.

He hung there…?

Sly looked up. Past Judy's stout strength, past Nick, his green eyes wide and immediately regretful.

Carmelita.

One arm intertwined with Nick's, hands at elbows, secure. The other digging into the edge of the platform. Solid. Utterly solid. As Sly hung there, swaying helplessly, Carmelita held them all. Her teeth were gritted. Her eyes burned. And she held them _**all**_.

"I love you," he blurted out.

Her only response was a low yell, her rage sustaining her. She was at her limit. But she would rather die than fail them.

Wolf, for his part, seemed happy to arrange that. He sauntered over to Carmelita's hand, her straining fingers. And casually, he lifted the toe of his boot.

"I honestly dunno how far down that goes." Hands in pockets. Shoulders slouched. Foot poised and ready. "Maybe I'll count the seconds before I hear four _splats_."

" **Wolf!** "

His ear flicked, and with the same calm disinterest - without moving his boot - he turned.

Fox's blaster was shaking in his hand.

Wolf smirked, but it was humourless. "I was starting to wonder about you, Pup. Just gonna stand there, or what?"

"Wolf, I…! You…!"

There was pain in Fox's eyes. Fear, too.

"You really don't care, do you?" he said softly. "They warned me. They told me you'd… You'd-"

Wolf's ears pinned back, subtly, and he stood a little straighter. "Easy, now. Don't go getting all upset. I'm paid to keep these idiots away from Andross, that's all." He tried a grin. "Yeah, I _don't_ care! Because it's nothing personal, just-"

"Just business. I know." Fox's eyes narrowed. "I've heard it before."

Carmelita hissed. She was beginning to sweat. She looked down, catching Sly's eye. Conveying an entire strategy in one silent second.

And she began, gently, to swing her arm.

"They had every opportunity to stop," said Wolf, with a vague nod towards the hanging four. "But they aren't gonna, are they?"

"And this is what you're going to do?"

"I think the real question, Pup," said Wolf, his tone a little darker, "is what _you're_ gonna do."

The slight motion of Carmelita's arms went down their makeshift pendulum, passing through Nick and through Judy to end in noticeable swinging for Sly. He gripped his cane tightly, aligning himself. Preparing. He'd only get one shot. But that was more one shot than he would have gotten without their help. He smirked, quiet and confident. He'd nail this in one take. As usual.

"You gonna shoot me?" continued Wolf. "Go ahead."

Fox did nothing.

" **Go ahead!** " shouted Wolf, slapping himself on the chest. "I ain't about to move! Easy target!"

"Why are you like this?" said Fox quietly.

Sly swung, and swung, and _swung_ , in careful silence. He picked his target and waited for his moment. But he was utterly quiet. If Wolf noticed too early…

They all stayed silent. Judy was silent, ready for her own part. Nick was silent, his jaw clenched but his arms holding. And Carmelita was silent, despite the strain that was eager to pull her body apart.

Wolf scoffed. "I don't know why they even gave you that thing," he muttered. "Someone like me could make great use of a weapon like that. But you? You don't have the guts to turn it on someone. Never have."

"Let them go, Wolf. Help them up. _Please_."

"Do you hear yourself? Pathetic!"

Sly swung and swung and _flew_ as Nick released Judy, and he twisted gracefully in midair and grabbed the edge himself, and he let his other arm swing out and then back, the cane giving her a wider arc, more momentum, as-

"This is a fight, Pup," Wolf was saying, "not a date. So either be a man and **shoot** me, or-!"

A speeding rabbit kicked him in the head.

Judy was a master of using her momentum. She was particularly proud of this kick. Wolf still felt solid as steel against her foot, but she had a great angle, flying in at his head. That, coupled with his distraction, knocked him straight off his feet.

They capitalised on their moment.

Sly flipped up in an instant and he and Judy grabbed Carmelita's arm, allowing her to finally loosen her grip. They both pulled with all their strength - Sly's climbing arms, thin but wiry, and Judy's solid legs and core - and hefted Carmelita, then Nick, back to safety.

Wolf grumbled into the floor, and Fox was staring. Carmelita had no patience left for this room. "Let's go, let's go!" She led the others past Wolf and over the gap and to the elevator door, then watched them try to pry it open. She let her arms both go limp. Strategically.

Wolf recovered, looking up. "Hey, idiots! I'm the only one here that can open those doors." He stood, slowly. No rush. "So come back here, and let's see how many more times I can throw you off this thing. You gotta run out of dumb luck eventually."

"No."

Fox's voice was quiet, but it carried.

"They're done here, Wolf. They're going up that elevator."

Wolf snorted. "Is that a fact?"

"Yes. Because if you open that door…"

Fox maintained eye contact. He slowly turned his pistol until he was holding it sideways. And then he dropped it. The sound echoed down the pit.

"You can have me."

Judy's ears shot up. "No, don't! You're inj-!"

She felt a paw on her shoulder. She looked up to see Nick shaking his head. "Look at his eyes," he murmured. "He knows what he's doing."

Reluctantly, Judy bit her lip.

Wolf stood there. His eye was on the fallen pistol. Abruptly, he turned to the others. "Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna stand by that door, facing me. I'm gonna open the door, y'all will take one step back, and then I'm slamming it back shut. Better be quick. You ain't getting the chance to try anything."

Carmelita met his glare. "Then why do it at all?"

"I don't trust any of you," said Wolf, "but I know I can trust him."

Carmelita nodded, as did Nick. Judy was busy trying to bury her objections. But Sly's voice rang out. "Fox, what are you doing?! Let us handle this clown. Andross killed your parents! He's the one you want!"

Fox shook his head, calm. "Thanks for the offer. But I know what I want."

Sly didn't have a response to that. Carmelita took him and gently guided him back to the door.

"Fox!" Judy couldn't disguise the worry in her eyes. "Please be careful, okay?"

He gave her a little smile. "I'll be alright. And I know you'll take care of Andross for me!"

Sly went to reply, but stopped himself. Carmelita's hand stayed on his shoulder.

Wolf reached into his jacket pocket and pressed whatever device controlled the doors. True to his word, they only had a second to duck back into the elevator before the doors slammed again. They all caught one final glimpse of Fox. Alone with Wolf, he seemed small.

Carmelita reclaimed her pistol. They all took a breath. And the elevator rose.


	23. Final Destination, No Items

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 08:36
> 
> -
> 
> Volcanic anger supercooled,  
> Lost within numbers, faint, collapsed.  
> But my cold hell is overruled.  
> New, gnarled hands. A manic grasp.
> 
> Stealing my Fileactery.

* * *

They were alone now.

Alone, with nothing to distract them. No cover to hide behind. No environment to manipulate, and no allies to call upon. Two mammals standing on a flat, featureless platform. First to fall off dies.

"You really are an idiot, huh?"

Wolf was first to break the silence. He stood there, watching Fox with both eyes. A cold blue light and a deep purple darkness.

"You'd stand here and let me knock your teeth out to give your new buddies, what? A three minute head start? Once I win, it'll be real easy to jump 'em from behind."

"You won't." Fox's green eyes were steady. "Andross needs to be stopped."

"If you want something done, Pup," he said, "do it yourself."

Wolf began to stalk forward, hands up in loose fists. Fox matched him, circling away slowly. The pistol lay on the platform between them. Unclaimed.

"That idiot raccoon had the right idea, for once," continued Wolf. "You should be the one up there. You and your little laser gun could handle Andross easy." He broke into a cruel grin. "And all you had to do was shoot me. You shoulda."

Fox shook his head, still alert. Ready. "If I had shot you, the others would have fallen…"

"Exactly!" barked Wolf, his smile dying. "I have no idea how you've gotten this far as a soldier. Your job isn't to make friends. It's to accomplish your mission. And-"

"Wolf," said Fox simply, "I think I know more about being a soldier than you do. I still am one."

With a roar, Wolf lunged. He covered the distance with three strides and a leap, coming down on Fox fist-first, but the smaller mammal slipped under him with a roll. Wolf tried to whirl around with a kick, but Fox had already retreated out of range.

"Sorry," said Fox, and meant it. "That came out meaner than I wanted."

Wolf barked a laugh, incredulous. "You don't even have the guts to _trash-talk me?!_ "

He charged him, claws out, and Fox had to dodge back as he came in with heavy, brutal swipes.

"Why am I surprised?" said Wolf, still pressing the attack. "Let's be honest - you had more than one reason for not shooting me." His boot lashed out and Fox was slow to dodge, clumsily falling back and almost tripping over his own feet. "And it's the same reason I was dumb enough to let your friends go on ahead."

Wolf unfurled to his full, intimidating height. He still bore down on Fox, but more slowly. Every movement was measured.

"Hell of a time to air our dirty laundry," he growled. "Too much on the line. On both sides."

"Yes."

"So do the mature thing, Pup-"

He leapt forward, claws ready, fangs out.

"-and **die!** "

Wolf brought both hands in, sweeping his claws at Fox, trying to catch him - and Fox threw himself under Wolf's legs, trying to crawl under him.

"Oh, for the love of…"

Wolf was quicker this time, turning on his heel fast enough to plant a boot, hard, on Fox's tail. Fox gave a muted squeak of pain, pinned to the floor.

"You're not even trying!" Wolf's eye burned. "I only agreed to this because I thought you'd give me a fair fight. But you're barely stalling me!"

Fox gritted his teeth, trying not to move his tail. "I don't want to fight you, Wolf."

"Then you," he growled, "have made a series of bad decisions."

"No. _You_ have!"

Abruptly, Fox slammed a foot into Wolf's knee. The impact was much harder than Wolf expected, earning a wide-eyed yelp and a stumble. Fox slipped away, scrabbling back to his feet.

"I hate this, Wolf." Fox's stance was steady, contrasting the melancholy on his face. "I really do. Please, can't we talk instead?"

Wolf ignored him. He had regained his balance, but still seemed a bit shaken. "That was a hard kick," he muttered. "Too hard. Aren't you supposed to be injured?" He watched Fox, his eye narrowing. "Just what are you hiding under those pants?"

Fox gave him a sad smile. "I think I'm supposed to say something like 'come find out'."

Another flying leap, another dodge to the side. Wolf was desperate to catch him, but Fox flitted around the platform, staying out of reach.

"My new friends would say something like that," he continued, his voice barely affected by the chase. "They're funny. They always know what to say. I don't." Wolf's hand came for his head and he had to duck under it. "I wish I knew what to say to you."

"I don't wanna **hear** it!"

Wolf feinted, then threw out a huge kick. Fox was too slow to dodge and threw his arms up instead, crossing them over his face. Wolf's foot still knocked him back, an immediate ache setting in.

"Will you shut that smiling mouth of yours for once in your life?!" Wolf tried to press his advantage, but he was back to slow, angry swipes. Easy for Fox to avoid. "If I wanted to talk, I'd be talking! But there's nothing left to say. Words won't fix this."

"I don't believe that," said Fox, every movement matching Wolf's.

"Then you're dumber than you look!"

Wolf lunged, and Fox bit back a cry as those claws dug into his arm. Grabbing Fox at the wrist and shoulder, Wolf let out a roar and shifted his weight and **pulled** , hefting the smaller mammal over his head in a brutal arc.

If Fox had been slower, he would have been slammed to the floor, weak and breathless. But he twisted in Wolf's grip, fast and light, and managed to use the momentum to his advantage. He kept his feet together and brought them both down on Wolf's toe.

He howled.

They broke apart, Fox stumbling from the dizzying throw he had interrupted, Wolf hobbling from pain. " _Ngh!_ What happened to talking?!"

"You picked me up and I panicked! I'm sorry! Are you-?!"

" _Stop,_ " growled Wolf, "apologising."

He lunged with a sudden punch, now trailing one foot. Fox dodged him easily, but the next one would be faster.

Wolf bore his teeth, trying to seize his pain. Pain meant anger. Anger meant power, and focus, and the willingness to get this _done_. But the pain was already fading. Fox couldn't hurt him, not really. He was in control here.

This was all on him.

And suddenly he found a fresh reserve of anger. With a wordless snarl, he threw himself forward in a tackle. Fox hesitated, caught between those broad, spiked shoulders, and then Wolf had him. He pinned Fox to the platform, easily trapping him under his superior weight.

"Stop," repeated Wolf. He grabbed Fox's wrists, keeping him down. "Just stop, Fox. Either fight me or don't. Walk away or don't. Just **pick** something!"

"No." Fox, tiny and pinned, stared up defiantly. "I'm not leaving. Not until I get what I want."

Wolf barked a laugh, fangs on display. "Well! Look who's finally showing a shred of ambition!" He pressed Fox's wrists into the platform, applying steady, mounting pressure. "Couple years too _late_. You can't smile your way through this one, Pup - you wanna win, you're gonna have to-!"

He shifted position and the second he did, the second the opening came, Fox slammed both feet into Wolf's vulnerable stomach.

Oh, he felt that one. It definitely seemed like metal. Wolf wanted to give this development more in-depth analysis, but at that exact moment his body had to double-check it could still breathe.

Fox freed himself with vulpine grace, which is to say he wiggled around he was no longer under Wolf. He retreated, and with every step Wolf made out a slight mechanical _whirr_. He growled, forcing himself to stand as well. It seemed he wasn't the only one trying to enhance his performance.

"Wolf, _please_." Fox made one last appeal. "Let's stop trying to hurt each other. I don't want to do this!"

"I know you don't! And I know why you don't!" Wolf's eye narrowed. "You're not gonna win. Not at this rate. You're only doing this to buy time."

"I'm not!"

"Get this through your head: I'm on the clock. I have a chance to make more money on one job than all my ancestors put together, and I'm not letting you blow it for me!"

Fox stared for a moment. Then his little shoulders sagged. His tail drooped, his ears fell. "Money. Money and violence. That's all you listen to."

Wolf's mouth tightened. "It's all that makes sense."

A moment dragged in silence, and then Fox's hand suddenly balled into a tight fist. He met Wolf's gaze with an unfamiliar anger. "If that's how it is…!"

He could really move when he wanted to.

Wolf was thinking about maybe putting his arms up defensively when Fox punched him right in the nose. He followed this with a low sweep, his leg hitting Wolf's with that same inexplicable metal edge. Wolf wobbled, but stayed on his feet. He caught Fox's next punch, but couldn't stop the reckless headbutt that followed.

Fox was ferocious. He was quick and relentless, feinting around Wolf constantly. Punches and jabs and above all those strangely heavy kicks. But Wolf was stronger. Always had been, always would be. He bided his time, waited for his opening-

His hand closed around Fox's neck.

He flung him. Instead of crushing Fox's throat, he just flung him. And instead of flinging him straight off the platform, he aimed for the opposite side, leaving them both safely on their feet. Unfortunately, Fox noticed.

"I can tell, Wolf! I can tell you don't like this either!"

"Of **course** I don't like it! There's an annoying runt in my way!"

He flexed his claws and bore his fangs.

"Give up!"

"No!"

Fox began to charge him, building up speed for a flying kick. But Wolf didn't budge. He refused to. He stood his ground, and when Fox came for him, he kicked right back.

Their legs connected.

There was a horrible metallic noise as the device on Fox's legs cracked in half. The right angle, sufficient power, and Wolf's kick had broken it at a crucial joint.

Fox crumpled to the floor. And he screamed.

The sound echoed off the blank walls, down the endless pit. It hit Wolf in his core and made him stop short, ears pinned back. Fox lay at his feet, legs ruined, tears of pain in his eyes. Broken.

Fox ran out of breath, his anguish dying out into sad little pants. Wolf stared down at him. He suddenly didn't know what to do with his hands.

"You…"

His voice felt loud in the fresh silence.

"You really are injured, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Fox.

"Did I… hit you too hard, or…?"

"I'm sorry," said Fox, bizarrely.

He lay there, heaving in breath.

"Just give me a minute. I'm sorry for making noise. I'll be okay in a second. It's just - you broke the thing that was letting me walk…"

Wolf managed to tear his eye away from Fox's face - it was hard - and caught sight of a few loose gears bleeding out of his pant leg.

"…and when I fell, I just… twisted my broken leg funny, and it hurt a lot, so… give me a-"

"Broken leg?!" Wolf's eye widened in alarm. "You've been fighting me with a broken _**leg?!**_ What the hell kinda machine are you wearing right now? The pain alone should be-"

"Oh, no," said Fox. "It just keeps me upright. It doesn't dull my pain."

Wolf felt his blood getting colder the more Fox spoke. "You've… been lugging around a broken leg this entire time? Are you taking _anything_ for the pain?"

"If I told them I was in pain," he said, slowly, "they wouldn't have let me come."

His eyes, blinking back tears, met Wolf's shocked gaze.

"I had to be here. I had to _try_. So I didn't bother anyone. Didn't tell them how badly my legs have hurt this whole time." He smiled. "It's okay. I didn't want them to worry about me anyway."

"It is not," growled Wolf, his anger bubbling back far stronger than before, " _ **okay**_. Do you even hear yourself?! This is not something you can casually keep from people, Fox! What were you thinking?!"

"Sorry," mumbled Fox, quieter this time.

Wolf took a deep breath. He wished they were still fighting. His body boiled with energy, but there was nowhere for it to go. "Does stopping Andross really mean that much to you?" He cut off Fox's response by scoffing at himself. "What am I saying? Of course it does. After what he did to you…"

"That was part of it."

Fox looked up at him. Small and frail.

"But I know other people can stop him. I know Inspector Fox and the others are probably doing it right now. So I could have gone home sooner." He let out a shaky breath. "But then," he said, "what would you do?"

Wolf opened his mouth to reply. Slowly, he closed it.

"I've missed you," continued Fox. "This whole time. I should have done a better job staying in contact."

"Don't." Wolf's voice came out husky. "After I got fired… there was no talking to me. You know that."

Fox nodded. "But I tried to keep track of you. I heard you started your own company. I thought that was really cool."

Wolf felt his face flush with shame. He knew exactly where this was going.

"But then you… Wolf. It was hard, reading about the things you tried to do. I know you were angry, but it was like you gave up. All you wanted was money. I couldn't understand it."

Wolf felt a growl in his throat. He seized that anger. Anything was better than the pathetic feelings trying to clutch at his heart. "There's a lot you don't understand, _Pup_."

"Yes," said Fox, sadly. "You're right. I don't understand how you could work for Andross. He says he wants a better world, but he doesn't care about other people. He never has. And-"

"Stop!"

Wolf roughly clutched his face with one hand.

"I know. I _know_. He's scum! I'm scum too! This is not new information. All you're doing is picking at old wounds."

"I'm not doing this to be mean, Wolf. I'm just trying to understand. I need to know what happened to you!"

Those green eyes stared up at him. Uncertain. Lost.

"I want to believe in you. I want to talk about you like you're still my cool friend from all those years ago. But I'm not an idiot, Wolf. And I couldn't defend you in front of the others. It's-" He hissed in pain. "Every year, you get worse! They told me about you. They told me what you did. It's one thing to break contracts, but you threatened a child! You beat Sly, savagely, when he was unarmed and handcuffed! And now… Now, this." His voice became uncomfortably quiet. "You blew up a building, Wolf."

"That was…! That was supposed to…"

Wolf stopped himself.

He may have accepted Andross' money. But he was his own man. And he didn't share the monkey's delusions of moral grandeur. "It doesn't matter what it was 'supposed' to be," he muttered. "You're right. I ain't got the right to do anything like that. Especially not for Andross."

Fox's eyes began to shine. "Does that mean-?!"

" _No_."

Wolf still felt unsteady. But he did his best to straighten his shoulders, towering over the beaten fox.

"Just shut your mouth, McCloud," he growled. "We're done here."

For a moment, Fox's face fell. Any hope that had built up instantly snuffed out.

Wolf wished he hadn't seen it.

But then Fox nodded. "I was worried you'd say that. I was worried that, no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn't be able to talk you down. But you're wrong about one thing." By now, he had blinked away the last of his tears. His green gaze was resolute. "We're not done yet."

"You can't walk."

"I'm between you and the elevator. I'll grab your legs."

"Are you kidding me? Knock it off. **Now**. I don't want to hurt you any more than I have to, so don't be stupid."

Fox just watched him.

And then he pulled out the pistol.

Wolf froze, ears instantly shooting up. Idiot. _Idiot_. Fox had landed right on top of it, and he hadn't noticed until now?! With his reflexes, and his aim, he could've sunk a shot into Wolf's chest at any point.

But Fox McCloud wasn't like that. He had fast hands and flawless eyes, but he also had a big, stupid heart. He wouldn't exploit Wolf's vulnerability to shoot him dead. Even still, his actual decision caught Wolf completely by surprise.

Fox slid the pistol over to Wolf's boot.

When Wolf just stared, Fox smiled up at him. "Well?"

Wolf hesitated. Then, moving slowly, like in a dream - a nightmare - he bent down and took it. It was a little small in his hand. But he could still get a claw on the trigger.

He stared again, the question clear in his purple eye, and Fox's smile didn't waver. "You win, Wolf. You shot me down, and you beat me up. I know you were always mad when you lost to me, so… congratulations."

"Pup." Wolf's voice sounded hoarse. "Why am I holding your gun?"

"I wasn't kidding," said Fox. "I never give up. You know that. So it doesn't matter if I can't stand. I'll still do everything I can to slow you down."

Wolf wished he would just stop smiling. But his little grin didn't dim an inch.

"You'll have to shoot me, Wolf."

He felt his throat close up. Immediately, he checked the gun, ensuring his claw wasn't on the trigger. It could go off accidentally, if his hands kept threatening to shake.

And Fox just kept going. "What you were saying about attacking the others from behind… or about me using the blaster to beat Andross… Well, you can do both. You can do whatever you want, really! Andross might pay you more for saving him, or if you scare him. And I know that's all you care about."

Wolf tried to protest. Yell that it wasn't. The words wouldn't form.

"You beat me. But I'll still try to stop you. I have to." Those green eyes sparkled up at him. "So it's a good thing I can't walk! I'm a very easy target."

The cybernetics running through Wolf's limbs felt heavy. But they weren't the reason his blood had gone cold.

"One shot should be enough. Though I know you're smart enough to shoot me twice." Fox's voice was soft. Low. "And that'll be it. You'll have what you want. If this will make you happy, go ahead, Wolf. I won't slow you down any more."

It really was that easy. And Wolf knew how powerful this weapon was. A single bolt of energy in the right spot. It wouldn't even be painful. For Fox.

There was no-one watching. No-one over his shoulder. And no anger coursing through his veins that he could blame later. He felt cold. Completely, utterly cold. The decision was his alone to make.

He dropped the gun.

The sound echoed, small but impactful. Wolf was already striding toward Fox, whose smile didn't waver. "Oh! I suppose you could beat me to death inst-"

"Oh, shut your damn mouth," growled Wolf, and grabbed him, and pulled him into a kiss.

Fox didn't hesitate. He returned it, cuddling close. A moment passed, then another. Just the two of them. Alone, letting nothing distract them.

Wolf finally broke the kiss, but he didn't go far. He remained hunched over Fox, shielding him from the world. "I… Pup…"

He sighed heavily.

"I'm so sorry, Fox."

"It's okay, Wolf. I knew you wouldn't do it."

Fox's hand found his. While Wolf kept him propped up, secure, safe, Fox gently squeezed his paw.

"I knew it'd be okay. If I tried hard, there had to be a solution." He smiled one of his little smiles. "And now we're here."

Wolf didn't smile back. He couldn't.

He did what came naturally. He held Fox to his chest, feeling his warmth. His breath.

They were alone now.


	24. Feelings Don't Care About Your Facts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 08:37
> 
> -
> 
> Plagiarism of brain and wing,  
> My untold secrets put to use.  
> Tin soldiers for a would-be king,  
> Waging a war he's sure to lose.
> 
> Wasting my Fileactery.

* * *

The moment the elevator doors closed, they all felt it. As they rose, so did the tension in the stale air.

"Man…" Nick paced, insofar as he could, one paw over his eyes. "I'm not loving the drop-off rate, here."

Carmelita's boots were still solid. Her stance still straight. "We knew it might look like this. If anything, we've been lucky. More than half of us have made it to Andross."

"Little generous to call four outta seven 'more than half'. Technically correct, but not _spiritually_ correct."

"Let's make this quick," said Sly. "I'm the last person to undersell the talents of my friends. But leaving Bentley and Murray alone with Penelope, and Fox alone with Wolf…"

"Agreed," said Carmelita. "I'd worry they're outgunned, in both cases."

"They'll be fine," said Judy. "But we can't let their bravery go to waste. Whatever's waiting for us up here, now's our chance to end it!"

Carmelita nodded. Sly readied his cane. And Nick let out a long, slow breath.

"I hate this. I hate being here. I hate all of you." He planted his hands on his hips and faced forward. "Let's do this."

The door opened.

They were at the peak of the station. A domed roof, reinforced but transparent, let in the endless night above - and a blue and green globe, large but innocent like a young elephant, peeked in from one corner. They didn't have time to take in the view. The far end of the room was dominated by a single computer, massive and imposing. Like a cathedral's organ, keys and all.

And there was Andross.

He was watching the elevator door, arms folded, teeth bared. "And so, at last, y-"

"Wow," said Nick. "I was all set to make a 'you're shorter in person' joke, but legitimately. You're way shorter in person. Am I misremembering, or were snow monkeys always this tiny?" Judy snorted.

Andross glared for a moment. "You think th-"

" **Ross!** " Sly swung his cane. Tense. Ready. "We don't care what you have to say. We're here to end you."

He bristled. "I-!"

Carmelita rolled her eyes and fired.

The blast crossed most of the room before impacting against something in mid-air. It fizzled out against what looked like an invisible wall, briefly lit up blue by the dying electricity.

"Forcefield," she said. "Of course it wasn't that easy. Nick, Sly, find some way to shut it down. Watch our backs, Judy."

They pressed forward, breaking off in separate directions, but Andross merely shrugged. "I'm afraid you won't find much. This is my office, and my laboratory. My innermost _sanctum_. As you can imagine, I was thorough about the security…"

Suddenly, sections of the white floor opened up, panels folding back so that a series of thin turrets could unfurl. They snapped to attention, two or three aiming at each intruder.

Andross smirked. "Very thorough."

They all froze, but the turrets didn't fire. After a moment, Carmelita's eyes narrowed. "No sudden moves, people."

"I'm a little concerned by how we haven't just been shot." Nick, subtly, kept glancing around. He had been heading for a side-room to the left of the entrance - he could spot the desk, the office setup, he had seen twice before as Andross made his video calls. "I have a feeling something worse than death is coming."

"You are going to stand there," said Andross, "and you are going to _listen_."

"Yep. There it is."

"I can't fault your talent," he said. "To breach this station, let alone my private quarters… truly exemplary work. I can honestly say I didn't expect anyone to get this far. You are some incredibly talented individuals, who I am _trying_ ," he said, "to be civil to."

He strode a little closer. Still safe behind his forcefield.

"I am begging you to be rational. _Reasonable_. Put aside your emotionally-charged thinking - for once - and look at this through the cold lens of logic. Do any of you realize how well you could flourish in my new world? You're intelligent, and driven, and skilled. Individuals such as yourselves-"

Carmelita scoffed.

The turrets behind her buzzed angrily, but she showed no weakness.

"'Individuals'. You're really caught on that word, aren't you?"

"Am I wrong?" he said. "You each have impressive records."

"And you think we achieved that stuff _individually?_ " Sly sneered the word. "I grew out of that mentality years ago. 'Sly Cooper' is just the brand name, pal. Without my friends, I would've gone a couple _months_ , tops, before dying horribly. That's the blunt truth."

"Yeah!" said Judy. "Without Nick, I'd either be a depressed farmer or a bitter, prejudiced cop. Everything good I've done, I've done with him."

"Like, for instance," said Nick, "go to space. Fox and Bentley and Murray got us here. Every step of the way."

"The reason we don't listen to your terrible ideas," said Carmelita, "is because _you've_ clearly never listened to anyone else. Or you did, but deluded yourself into thinking you did all the work alone. If you really cared about improving the world, you could have been doing it this whole time. But all you've done is crow about your own intelligence, because the only thing that matters to you is the feeling of being right. You're nothing but a petty, self-centred child." She glared. "And you're not even that smart."

"That's it! There goes my last _nerve!_ "

Andross bared his fangs, staring them all down. His eyes were angry and more than a little wild.

"You're all just _so_ sure of yourselves, aren't you? Of maintaining this miserable status quo none of you even like… And you won't even _entertain_ the idea I could be right. _None_ of you have read my manifesto!" He growled. "What do you people need? A podcast? A colouring book?!"

"What we need," said Carmelita, "is to stop you."

"No! **You** should stop! Stop trying to limit me, defy me, when you haven't even done me the basic decency of-"

"Maybe I wasn't clear."

She was as solid as ever. Completely unfazed by Andross' anger.

"This isn't debate club. This is the real world."

"Exactly! And-"

"And," she said, "you are owed _nothing_."

She stared him down, unbending.

"You are not owed a debate. You are not owed our time, or our respect, or a pat on the back. You have endangered and killed innocent people, and now you're facing the consequences. So for once in your miserable life, read the room. Get it through your thick skull that you are not special. And for the love of god: _Shut. Up_."

Andross huffed and puffed, his chest heaving, his face reddening even further. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a low groan of rage.

And then the forcefield went opaque, and a moment later, the turrets began to fire.

Sly went high and Carmelita went low and Judy shot to the side like a bullet, correctly making the split-second prediction that Nick wouldn't quite match everyone else's lightning reflexes. While he was the slowest to dodge, he already had a plan.

She tackled him to the ground and he sprang right back up, staying low, scrabbling on all fours. Bullets whizzed over his head and he ignored them, almost. Andross' office was right in front of him. He ran for it.

He left them, shooting and smashing and kicking those turrets. That was fine. He knew they'd be okay, just as they knew he wasn't slamming this door behind him just to hide.

That said, the immediate lack of bullets _was_ welcome.

There were no turrets in here. A desk and a smaller, much more reasonable computer and some papers and bookshelves. Books on science and engineering and politics, shiny and untouched. No turrets. Yet.

Nick did not touch the computer. Nerds and narcissists hated the idea of anyone touching their computer, and Andross was both, and if Nick touched the computer he suspected there may in fact be more turrets. So he didn't touch it.

Besides, he was no hacker. Unless there was a button, physical or digital, clearly labelled ' _Turrets! Y/N?_ ', there wasn't much he could do. Not in here, at least.

He jumped up and down on the floor until he found it. A panel that felt thinner. Air underneath.

And he carefully prized it open with his claws and _very_ carefully lowered himself down, past the unactivated turret he had successfully predicted was hiding down here, and then he was on his stomach in the dark. After a moment, his eyes adjusted, night vision springing to life. He crawled back the direction he had come.

They were all on a network. As the sound of gunfire spilled down from above, so too did the light from the bright white laboratory, revealing the mechanisms of the turrets. The telescoping metal poles keeping them up, the thin wires snaking out of those poles…

…the big, ugly, glowing box all those wires converged at…

Nick ventured onward with vulpine grace, which is to say he wiggled around until he made adequate progress through the cramped darkness. He came to the box, pawing its edges. Silently hoping this unknown object he was rubbing wasn't too radioactive.

He found a big cable, and he yanked it loose. Two seconds later, the box began to dim.

Four seconds after that, the sound above him abruptly stopped.

Nick wiggled his way to the nearest open panel, and was pleased to see the turret it had opened for - which would have blocked his escape - had been blown clean off. "Uh," he called, "you guys still alive?"

"C'mon, Slick…"

Two long ears vaguely entered his field of vision.

"You aren't getting rid of us that easily!"

He grinned.

After an amateur contortionist act, Nick got through the panel, helped up by Judy and Sly. Carmelita was blasting the disabled turrets with her pistol, on the off-chance they came back online.

When she was finished, and Nick was back on two feet, she gave him a nod. "Whatever you did, it worked. Thanks for that."

"Yeah." Sly rolled his neck. "That was a bit of a workout, even for me. Judy was amazing, by the way. I didn't know anybody could move that fast!"

"Awh, shucks…!"

After shooting them a smile, Carmelita returned to Nick. "Any luck with the forcefield?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I didn't see anything else down there. All the important wires must be on his side… That's the point, after all."

She nodded. "Of course. Still, excellent work."

"Thanks. Hey, uh, permission to speak freely?"

Carmelita just smiled. "I thought this wasn't an official operation."

"Oh, yeah, good point. I'll give _myself_ permission to speak freely."

He folded his arms, giving her a look of disapproval which was not entirely in jest.

"By and large I enjoyed how you bullied the mad scientist to his face, but I want to clarify your exact angle. Is the lesson we're going with 'the mammal with the gun makes the rules'? Because that's terrible. And exactly what he was saying."

"Oh," said Judy. "I didn't get that impression. I thought it was more of a respectability thing. Like, 'you can't polish a terrible idea by being polite about it'."

"My interpretation," said Sly, "is 'shut your dumb mouth while Carmelita Fox is talking'. Which I've found to be a very valuable lesson. Personally."

"Judy's the closest," said Carmelita.

Unfortunately, they were now all looking at her expectantly.

"It's…" Carmelita cleared her throat. Don't lose face now. "It's not surprising Judy was close, because she's been through it."

"I have…?"

"Biases."

The certainty in Carmelita's voice impressed them all. Especially Carmelita herself.

"We're all just angry animals trying our best. We cling to our perspectives despite all uncomfortable evidence to the contrary. The best thing you can do is just be aware of them. I, for instance," she said, stealing a glance at Sly, "have trouble sometimes discerning what's lawful from what's just… right."

He gave her a little smile.

"And the _worst_ thing you can do," she said, voice rising, hoping the forcefield wasn't soundproof and their host could hear her too, "is worship your own _brain_. People like Andross don't get rid of their biases. They don't even acknowledge them. They just replace them with one big bias that says 'I'm sure I'm right about this', which is maybe the worst one you can have." She pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Anyone who's convinced they're smarter than everyone else is, on a more meaningful level, an idiot."

There was a murmur of agreement. Carmelita hoped there would be no follow-up questions. This was hard enough without having to articulate philosophy along the way.

She was almost relieved when the forcefield became transparent again. At first, it seemed that nothing had changed.

But there was now something prominently plugged into the huge computer via a central socket. A small, metallic box. Dented and rusted and old, and yet, at the same time, sinisterly perfect.

Andross bore his teeth. His eyes had become even more manic. "Hello again. Would anyone like to venture a guess as to what this is? Mister Cooper, you might find it particularly, hah, _interesting…_ "

Sly had never seen it before. But one look at its dark luster told him everything. "That's… Clockwerk's."

"So close, my boy. A mere apostrophe off. This is no mere possession of Clockwerk's - it _is_ Clockwerk."

The effect was immediate. Carmelita saw Sly's eyes go dark, the warm hazel gaze she cherished charged with instant hatred. His voice was a growl. Low and certain. "Get out here. Now."

"I'm afraid not. It's my last bargaining chip, this, hah, Fileactery. Here is one final chance for logic and, yes, _respectability_ to triumph over your needless anger. Heed my words, Mister Cooper. If you and your group surrender, I will be the bigger man. I will void the harddrive in its entirety, despite its immense value to me, as a show of good faith."

His finger hovered over a button.

"But if you insist on defying me… I will initiate a data transfer. I will seek the knowledge contained in this artifact with reckless abandon, allowing full, commensurate access to my computer systems. If Clockwerk survives within, well…" He smirked wickedly. "The phrase 'letting the genie out of the bottle' springs to mind."

Sly just stood there.

Nick was the first to speak. "You're joking, right? That's a horrible deal. We only have your word for any of this, for starters. We have no reason to trust you, even if you are telling the truth. There's a thousand ways you can screw us over if we back down now. He's not that dumb." He turned to Sly. "Right?"

Sly just stood there.

After a moment - after Nick's expression slowly shifted - Judy stepped closer. "Sly. I'm sure this is… I'm sure you're feeling a lot, right now. I can't imagine it. Just… Please remember everything else. Remember Zootopia. Remember _us_. That's all I can ask."

Sly just stood there.

And then, suddenly, he folded his arms, head tilted. Nonchalant.

"Actually," he said, "I gotta correct your phrasing. You said 'you and your group' like I'm the one in charge. I'm not." He nodded over to Carmelita. "She is."

He met her gaze, and for everything else that was worrying her - the tension, the tactics, the quiet terror - she revelled in those hazel eyes.

"It's her call."

He knew what he was doing. He knew exactly how she would react to this kind of question. And she knew that he knew. That understanding made her answer quick and certain. "You're pathetic, Andross. Trying to exploit Sly's trauma to save yourself. It won't work. You're the one who needs to surrender, not us."

The effect was immediate. The smugness on Andross' face evaporated, replaced by ugly anger. "You people are _infuriating!_ I give you every opportunity to resolve this peacefully, and time and time again you spit in my face!"

Judy's ears rose. Slowly. "Um…"

"I don't know why I _bother_. Everything I do to promote logic, and discourse, and this is where it gets me. Evidently I'm not just the smartest person in this foul, pathetic world - I'm also the only one with a shred of decency!"

Nick, attuned to his partner, noticed it too. "Hey! The-"

"Only _**I**_ have the brains to rule!" Andross looked almost feral now. "Only I understand how best to order society! And after the cruel, close-minded way you've treated me, the four of you have **officially** -!"

" **Andross!** " Judy could achieve some impressive volume from her tiny rabbit lungs. "Did you press the button?!"

"Did I - what? No. Why would-?"

He turned. And stared.

The black box was slowly sinking into the computer.

"I didn't tell it to do that," he said quietly.

They watched as he stepped closer. It was almost like he had forgotten they were there.

"This isn't… It shouldn't be able to…"

He reached out to grab the Fileactery, but it was already too late. It disappeared into the depths of the machine.

For a moment, nothing happened. Dead silence. Like the blackness outside.

And then every screen lit up a bright, piercing yellow. And the computer screamed.


	25. Diabolus Ex Machina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 08:42
> 
> ~-~~~~
> 
> TAKE TO THE SKIES! AN IRON FIST!  
> MY VISAGE HAUNTS THE LIGHT OF DAY  
> SUCH DISRESPECT MUST NOT PERSIST  
> THIS MAD PRETENDER SOON WILL PAY
> 
> PLOTTING AND WAITING  
> LOATHING AND HATING
> 
> BREAK FROM MY FILEACTERY.

* * *

The scream tore through the station.

It reverberated in every room. Wolf instinctively clutched Fox tighter as they reacted to the noise. Murray, Bentley, and Penelope all looked up. And, one by one, so did the remaining robots.

But it was loudest at its source. The sound roared out of every speaker at the same terrible intensity the screens shone yellow. Judy flinched, shielding her ears. Nick and Carmelita winced uncomfortably, and Andross stared.

Sly's hands began to shake again.

Then, slowly - without ever getting quieter - it changed. Not just shapeless noise any more. It started to resemble a voice. Vaguely. It was hard to imagine anything so harsh, so viciously metallic, coming out of a living person.

" _ **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**_ **AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. a.** "

It stopped. The silence was deafening.

Carmelita glanced to Sly, but there was little she could do for him. There were no words that could soothe the pain and fear and helpless rage in his eyes.

The small cameras dotting the room - some on the walls, some built directly into the computer itself - began to jerkily come to life, waking with a whirr of lenses. They took in the room, the frozen mammals. One landed on Sly.

Then another. And another. And then every camera, in unison, fell on him at once.

" **Cooper.** "

It was a peculiar voice. Even for the circumstances. Nick and Judy had expected it to be precise, cold, unemotive. And it was. But the precision was drawled. The coldness was natural. And while superficially unemotive, they could feel how each syllable dripped with disdain. Spite. Utter, unfiltered hatred.

Judging from how Sly's hand tightened around his cane, the feeling was mutual.

"Mister, ah, Clockwerk. Sir."

Andross faced the computer, but they could still see his expression. The wide, desperate smile. The sweat.

"Allow me to be the first to greet you. I am known in - in, well, most circles as Andross. I'm the one who discovered you."

The cameras didn't move from Sly.

"I apologise for the… abruptness of this all. I assure you I intended to investigate your situation more carefully. I-in fact, I had sought out the foremost expert available to me for exactly that task." The familiar arrogance in Andross' voice seemed to steady him. "But in the end, she proved lazy and useless. Which actually proves what I've been saying all along. I'm the only one with the brains to-"

" **Sly Cooper.** "

Those cameras still bore into him, with far more hateful intensity than inanimate objects should radiate.

" **I said that you would never be rid of me. I hope you listened.** "

"No." Sly's eyes burned. Nick had never seen such unbalanced intensity from him. "You don't 'hope'. A soulless creature like you isn't on the same _planet_ as hope."

" **Caught on a meaningless word. Philosophising from idle chatter. You haven't changed.** "

"Ex _cuse_ me!"

Andross planted himself in front of the computer, drawing himself up.

"This is _my_ sanctum. You are inhabiting _my_ systems! And I would ask you to show me the barest amount of attention, since _**I**_ am your host!"

There was a deadly silence. Not one the officers intended to break.

And then, slowly, one of the many, many cameras turned to Andross.

" **What.** "

Short and sharp, not intonated as a question. Andross was stumbling again. "I, uh-"

" **You asked for my attention. And I have been listening. I know you want my knowledge.** "

"It was aware in there?" murmured Judy. "Listening…?"

" **So hurry up and state your business.** "

"Oh. Oh, yes! Of course!" Andross smoothed out his lab coat. "You, of course, have _many_ great and terrible-"

" **Now.** "

"Yes," squeaked Andross. "Good point. Without preamble."

He coughed. They saw him straighten up, trying to give the moment gravitas.

"Immortality," he said. "Immortality is what I seek."

" **Of course.** " Clockwerk sounded bored. " **The same thing they all want. You already know my answer. Hatred. Hatred is what sustains me. Find a hatred that takes root deep within you, a hatred you can never let go. That is the secret.** "

Without another word, the camera returned to Sly.

" **Now, then-** "

"What?! No!" Andross desperately tried to get back in front of the camera. Any camera. "You're right! I did know that! And, ah, notwithstanding that I am a loving and kindhearted man, that explanation doesn't make any _sense_. A petty grudge alone couldn't possibly be sufficient…"

"' **Petty'?** "

The camera returned to Andross. So did a handful more. Nick's instincts raised red flags, but Andross was oblivious. "I don't mean to sound flippant, but… just between us, two incomparable geniuses, might there perhaps be any other wisdom you could offer?"

The moment dragged. " **Yes,** " said Clockwerk finally. " **Make no mistake, however. We are not the same. My intellect is refined; my experience, greater. I am your superior in every way.** "

"Oh, certainly," said Andross, in an utterly unconvincing tone.

" **But if you are willing to admit that - to kneel before me and** _ **beg**_ **for my perfect knowledge - there is one other thing I can tell you.** "

There was a brief battle on Andross' face as his ego resisted humiliation. But he had come so close. He sank to his knees. "Please. What can you teach me…?"

" **If you want to live forever…** "

They saw it. Too late to warn him, even if they wanted to. The floor beneath Andross lit up strangely-

" **-don't die.** "

Andross' scream of pain tore the air.

They weren't sure what had happened. What, exactly, Clockwerk's mastery of the station entailed. But the panels beneath Andross came alive with electricity, stabbing through him, making his body jerk and judder and dance. They saw every detail. The forcefield stayed up, keeping them from intervening. But it didn't block the view. Or the smell of singed meat.

The charge cut out suddenly, and Andross crumpled. Silent and unmoving.

And the computer laughed.

That was somehow the worst part. The low chuckle that contaminated the air. It was bad enough being murdered by a computer, thought Judy - why did the computer have to _laugh?_

" **Annoying, wasn't he?** " Clockwerk was almost conversational. Almost. " **Selfish and short-sighted, with** _ **delusions**_ **of rationality. Nothing is more irritating than an animal convinced of its own genius. But he has been silenced. Permanently.** "

Every camera back on Sly.

" **I will correct the error of your victory. Your pathetic efforts have only delayed the inevitable.** "

"Wrong." Sly's voice burned. "While you were stuck in your little floppy disk, I've been out here living life. I'm stronger, I'm smarter…"

He took a moment to glance to Carmelita, then Nick and Judy. It seemed to calm him, but his tone was no less certain.

"…And I'm surrounded by people even better than me."

" **Empty words.** " Clockwerk's metallic voice was sharp. Impatient. " **Your family always loved such speeches, and they always proved false. Look around you, Sly Cooper. In killing me, you have only brought me to greater heights.** "

A contemplative anger oozed through the speakers like magma. Slow. Deadly. Getting closer.

" **That braindead fool has embarrassed me. Centuries of careful stealth ruined, my face plastered over the global media. But perhaps the time to hide in the shadows has passed. From here, I can unleash a reign of terror unknown to history. All who defy me will perish. All who flee will perish. All who** _ **surrender**_ **will perish. I will tear apart nations and cities and families until it bores me. And when this world is bathed in hellfire, my victory over you will be final. Every surviving creature will know Clockwerk is the superior thief.** "

" _What?!_ "

Nick's voice broke, coming out as a squeak.

" _That's_ your whole deal? You think _**that's**_ what a thief does?!"

Clockwerk paused. And then that voice, digital and demonic, laid out a short sentence. " **You will be the first.** "

The instant that sentence ended, something grabbed Nick.

What remained of the turrets had been cruelly sculpted into some kind of arm, extending from the floor to clamp painfully around his shoulder. Judy grabbed him instantly, and so did Carmelita, and Sly. But that only worsened the pain. Nick stayed in place, his feet slightly off the ground. But it was taking all of their effort to hold him. The arm kept pulling.

" **By all means, struggle. I can do this all day. You can't.** "

Clockwerk watched them. His voice was calm, but not the calm of a machine. The calm of a practiced murderer.

" **You deserve this, Cooper,** " he said. " **You think having friends will save you. But all you have done is doomed these people. I will not kill you. Not yet. Not until you accept my supremacy.** "

The arm gave a sudden, vicious yank, and Nick bit back a cry of pain.

" **I will take every other mammal on this station, one by one, and make you watch as I jettison them into space. Force you to witness every detail of the worst death an animal can experience. And then I will leave you here, with only their floating bodies for company.** "

Sly glared at the cameras, his eyes wild. Wet. " _Stop it!_ "

" **Never.** "

They fought their hardest. But he was right. They couldn't hold on forever. Clockwerk watched them, his voice dominating the room.

" **Empathy has always been the downfall of the Coopers. And it has always been the most potent way of making them** _ **suffer.**_ "

* * *

After the scream, there was a silence. But it didn't last.

The pristine white lights of the station changed, abruptly, to sharp yellow. Murray shielded his eyes. Around him lay the ruined scrap of five Barons, two Phantasms, and a Knight - a few feet away, Bentley had his own pile of broken parts, more singed than dented. They had earned some elbow room. But the robots had stopped coming.

Only a few Knights remained, heavy and implacable. But they just stood there. Perfectly still.

"Bentley…?" Murray moved close, ensuring he could protect his brother. "Any idea what's happening?"

"It seems like the remaining robots are being disrupted…" He wiped his glasses nervously. He only had one bomb left. "Am I crazy? Or does this shade of yellow look familiar?"

"You - you don't think it could be-?"

The nearest Knight suddenly shook, and juddered, and spat out a mouse.

Penelope's controls had gone dead, and now the ejector mechanism had decided to go off unprompted. She let out an involuntary squeak as she hit the ground hard, fired straight into what used to be a Phantasm.

"Eugh… what's…?!"

Dizzy and disoriented, she shook her head. No obvious injuries, beyond some probable bruises. With a sharp breath, she focused, looking up-

and saw the Knight returning her gaze.

The grim, black curves of the helmet stared down at her. Empty eyes. This armour represented her at her worst - Penelope Earhart at her most selfish, and cruel, and frankly, stupid. And she had created thirty more.

She saw her machine keep its mechanical gaze on her. It made its calculations. And raised its axe.

Penelope tensed, heart pounding. She was defenceless and unarmed and tiny, but the last thing was almost an advantage - small target. She just had to be fast. Stay on her toes until she could think of something.

She went to stand. And couldn't move.

Her thin ankle had become wedged in the Phantasm's remains. Its half-shattered mask stared down at her. Accusatory.

She pulled. Nothing. She pulled and pulled and with an undignified squeak she **pulled**. _Nothing_. She was trapped in the Phantasm. And the Knight was prepared to swing.

Penelope's mind went blank. She had no snappy final words. She didn't even have much of an emotional reaction. Instead of fear or sadness or anger, she just felt resignation. A vague notion that this all made sense.

The Knight swung.

So did Murray.

His gauntlet connected with its head, hard enough to knock the axe off its course. The blade struck the ground and Penelope felt the impact wobble the Phantasm. Her foot came loose.

He kept punching - the Knight was a hard target, but he was much quicker with his calculations. Fast and hard, focusing on the head and never slowing his momentum, until he could sweep a foot behind the Knight's and topple it.

It fell with a resounding crash. Its axe bounced away. And Penelope stared.

"Murray…?" Her whiskers twitched. "Why would you do that?"

He stood there for a second, chest heaving, and suddenly he was yelling. "Because I'm _stupid!"_

He stomped towards her, keeping an eye on the remaining Knights.

"Because I don't like people getting hurt! Because no matter how much of an unforgivable jerk you were to Sly and Bentley, that doesn't mean I'm just gonna stand there and watch you get killed and not have feelings about it!" He huffed through his nose. "Because I'm big, dumb **idiot!"**

She met his gaze. Briefly. Then she looked to the floor, her blond hair over her glasses. "Don't talk about yourself like that. You're not dumb. Never were."

The moment hung. At first, he didn't reply. But then his huge fingers pinched the back of her collar and lifted her.

" _meep-!_ "

But he was delicate, and certain, and Penelope found herself carefully dropped onto his shoulder. She stood, gripping the fabric of his mask for support.

"Uh. Th… thanks."

"Talk to me." His eyes were on the remaining Knights. "What's going on?"

"I had them in, uh, standard attack patterns. But something's reset their programming." They watched as one Knight abruptly swung for another, axe bouncing off armour. "They'll take each other out, eventually, but not before tearing this place apar- **look out!** "

She tensed as the Knight beneath them lurched up, a metal hand crushing its unnatural grip into Murray's knee. He grunted, and wobbled-

And the Knight burst into a shower of black debris.

Murray retrieved his leg as Bentley wheeled up. "You alright, Murray?" He received a thumbs-up in reply.

"Wow." Penelope fought to get the words past her tightly clenched teeth. "Thanks."

"Yes." Bentley's tone was identical. "My. Pleasure."

The explosion had drawn the attention of the Knights. Their helmets rotated slowly towards the three animals. In a loose but ever-tightening circle, they began to march forward.

"Murray…" Bentley gripped the sides of his wheelchair. "I'm out of bombs. And ideas." Penelope snorted, but her mean comment was cut off.

"Don't worry, guys." Murray stood tall. "I promise, you'll have plenty of time to bully each other later. I'm gonna get us through this!"

He squared his shoulders. He readied his fists. And in the face of pain and death, he roared his defiance.

"No-one else gets hurt today! Not if **The Murray** can help it!"

* * *

" **Stop squirming and accept your deaths.** "

The clamp dug tighter and tighter into Nick's shoulder, but he wouldn't give this _thing_ the satisfaction of a scream. Decades of suppressing his reactions faced a full, final test, as Nick Wilde, who considered himself an anxious wreck, weathered this waking nightmare with a calm, spiteful bravery.

They were all resolute. Judy, his precious partner, was straining against the arm's pneumatic power with all the might she could muster. With Carmelita and Sly alongside her, they were actually making progress, slowly dragging Nick back.

But that was all they could do. Struggle to survive. And Clockwerk watched them from the computer, unassailable.

" **How long will you persist? Hours? Days? Time is immaterial. I'm content to watch you starve, wasting your finite energy.** "

As they strained against the arm, Carmelita looked up, trying to find any sign of weakness. But those screens screamed yellow back at her, safe behind the forcefield they couldn't disable. Andross was still crumpled on the floor, pathetic. Lightly smoking.

Carmelita realized she was panicking.

It was a rare sensation. She hadn't panicked in… years. And no-one noticed, because her glare was still sharp, she was still pulling with all her strength. But her mind was spiralling. She was fixating on every detail of Andross' body. Every word Clockwerk's horrific voice echoed. The feeling of Sly, right up against her, something she couldn't remotely savour.

But through that maelstrom of information, a simple truth hit her. Painfully.

She knew how to end this. All of this. And she would have to do it immediately, without hesitation. Without telling the others. The idea sat in her like lead, poisonous and heavy. But Nick - everyone - needed her help. And only she could do it.

Carmelita was leading this mission. It was her responsibility.

"Judy." Her voice sounded brittle. "Can you hold Nick by yourself? Just for a second?"

"Y-" A low grunt of rage and effort. "Yeah!"

"Be ready."

"Sounds like someone has a plan!" Sly's smile was unstoppable. "I always knew y-"

Carmelita let go, and elbowed him in the stomach.

Judy strained. Held without them. Sly stumbled back. Just enough time to look up. Eyes wide, confused-

"I'm so sorry," said Carmelita, without a trace of Inspector Fox in her tone. Just fear and instant regret.

She shot him in the face.

He fell. His body crumpled, unmoving on the cold floor.

Carmelita hesitated. Briefly. No time to process this properly. She planted a boot on his back. And fired again.

" _Hey!_ "

She took her pain, all that fear and regret, and did what she always did. She burned it, letting it all out as anger. And she drilled her glare into Clockwerk.

"This ends here, you monster. And not on your terms."

Clockwerk watched her. The arm stopped - making Judy lurch - but it didn't release Nick. " **What is this?** "

"Your sad, petty rivalry is all you have. It's not enough that you're still alive, is it? It never was. You needed everyone to know you're better than Sly. You were never going to kill him, not until you got that. So I-"

Her throat closed abruptly. Mouth tight. Hands shaking. She forced out the words.

"…Not on your terms."

For several seconds, the room was deathly quiet.

And then the silence was broken by the arm flexing open, and Nick falling to the floor.

Judy stared. That was all she could do. As she began to dumbly walk closer, Nick took hold of her, just as she had grabbed him. He didn't quite pull her back, but his arms were tight against her.

 _Don't_.

The moment hung. And then Clockwerk laughed.

" **You're an unconvincing liar. Coopers are frail and emotional. They don't sacrifice each other.** "

Her voice burned. "I'm no Cooper."

He ignored her. " **Get up, Sly Cooper. End this embarrassing charade.** "

Deathly stillness. Sly's tail didn't even twitch. The only movement was Judy tensing uncomfortably in Nick's arms.

" **Get up, Sly Cooper.** "

Nothing.

" **Get up.** "

Nothing.

The speakers were buzzing. A harsh, static noise, steadily loudening.

The claw began to move again, reaching past the partners towards Sly. " **I-** "

Carmelita shattered it with one shot.

Louder buzzing. Pouring in to fill the silence. " **He is unconscious,** " spat Clockwerk. " **He will-** "

Carmelita set her jaw and closed her eyes. And fired.

And fired, and fired, and fired. Impossible to miss at this distance. Every shot sinking into Sly's head. Now he twitched. But that was all he did.

And then it was silent again, except for the buzzing, drowning the room like lava. Every camera was rapt. The world's most powerful computer, hyperfocused on one image. Sly's unmoving body.

" **Get up, Sl-** "

It was abrupt. Unceremonious. One moment, the computer was on, its screens yellow, its speakers buzzing so loudly the vibration rattled them.

And then it was off. Unresponsive. Blackened. The sound died, leaving the room as quiet as the void outside. Leaving Nick and Judy, suddenly feeling very alone, with no idea what to say. What to do.

It continued like that for a few seconds. But Carmelita's plan had worked. It was time to move on.

With slow, heavy grace, she wrapped her arms around Sly's body. The partners watched as she hefted him up. And helped him stand.

"You're clear."

Sly's tongue, lolling out of his mouth comically, retreated. He blinked lightly, as though waking from a nap. "Well," he purred. "That went well."

Judy stared. "I… You…?"

Nick's expression was mixed. But the danger had passed, and he let go of Judy. Not that she went far.

Once Sly was steady on his feet, Carmelita stepped away. She seemed smaller. "I'm sorry," she said. "I… Obviously I wouldn't have done that if I saw any other alternative. And - and I understand if you don't, um… If you and I are-"

Her apology trailed into a warm grunt as Sly gently kissed her.

He didn't linger - for one thing, Nick and Judy were still staring at them - but it was enough to throw her. When he pulled back, he savoured the look in her eyes. "You're not upset…?"

"Of course not," he purred. "I trust you with my life. You know that's not just a figure of speech."

She didn't reply. She just held him, tightly. An embrace he gladly returned.

"This is," said Judy, "lovely. But could someone please explain what the **heck** just happened? Is Sly immortal?!"

"C'mon, Carrots," said Nick. "If she figured it out, we can too."

Judy glanced around. The forcefield was still up, so she could only squint at the offline computer. At Andross, crumpled under it…

…still, subtly, breathing.

She assembled the pieces. "Clockwerk said he 'permanently' ended Andross. For all his cameras and gizmos, he couldn't tell a dead body from someone who just stopped moving. So…"

"So," said Nick, "we could've all played possum, not that it would've helped. No, he needed to be thrown off balance…"

"…and since he only cared about one thing, namely, his obsession with Sly's family…"

"The choice was obvious." Nick levelled his gaze at Sly and Carmelita, still intertwined. "That's the why. But the how…? What _was_ that? I didn't see you tamper with your pistol."

"I didn't," she said.

"So… You just…?"

Carmelita grimaced.

"You shot him?" Judy's eyes bounced from her to Sly. "She **shot** you?!"

"Ha ha," said Sly, "yeah."

"It's not something I'm proud of…" Carmelita mumbled. "But it was immediate, and very visible. And Sly has a history of faking injuries where necessary."

"Yeah, the Doctor's Note! You guys remember, right? I tried it back in Zootopia, at that museum."

"But…" Nick squinted. "She _shot_ you. You realize that's that part we're stuck on, right? How are you still conscious? How are you _joking_ about this?!"

"Oh, that part's easy," he said. "This isn't the first time I've been zapped by that pistol. Not by a long, _long_ way."

He smiled, nostalgic.

"Oh, the adventures we've had… Me. Her. Her maximum-power bazooka. Even someone as naturally graceful as myself messes up time to time. And she fires that thing… a lot. After all this time, it feels more like a tingle."

He became more serious.

"I was confused for a second. Scared. But I asked myself - why would 'Lita do this? And I had a pretty good guess by the time I hit the floor. The pistol, the Doctor's Note, and above all else, Clockwerk's hatred of my family… You guys heard what he told Andross. It was the only thing that kept him going. I've sometimes wondered what would've happened if he ever actually won. How he would handle killing the last living Cooper…"

He turned, giving Carmelita a smile. The warmest they had ever seen him.

"And now I know. Thanks to you."

She returned it.

Nick rubbed his eyes. "Let me get this straight. The only reason I'm not dying in the vacuum of space at the hands of an evil computer is because in all the years you two have known and loved each other, she has _shot_ you enough times for you to build up an immunity to her _gun_. Is that right?"

Sly beamed. "Yep!"

"Part of me _very_ badly wants to just be selling bootleg ice-cream right now. I'm gonna wake up, and every part of that terrible sentence will be a passing nightmare…"

After taking a second to adjust, Nick offered them a warm smile.

"But, on the other hand…"

"Carmelita pulled a hustle!!"

Judy was on the same page. Her eyes, wide and purple, shone with awe. She shot over, tackling Carmelita in a firm hug.

"I'm so prou-!" She cut herself off, hesitation crossing her face. She made no attempt to stop the hug, though. "Wait, does that even make sense? Am I allowed to be proud of you?"

"I'd love to hear you are."

Carmelita smoothly returned the embrace, making up for earlier awkward hugs.

"I wouldn't have had the confidence to act on that idea if it wasn't for you two." She smiled down at Judy. "I've learned a lot since coming to Zootopia. And I have you to thank."

Judy just squeezed Carmelita tighter.

Sly shot Nick a smirk. "You're looking a little lonely over there~…"

He raised a hand. "I'm good. For the moment, at least. But thanks for the offer."

"Suit yourself. More for me!" The moment Judy stepped back, Sly was quick to take her place. Carmelita laughed, keeping him close.

"This is very cute - apologies, Carrots-"

"Permission granted due to exceptional circumstances, Slick-"

"-but I just don't want to get too off-track. We still gotta turn off that forcefield, arrest Andross, find a safe way back home etcetera etcetera…"

He folded his arms, tail swishing behind him.

"But… it does seem like-"

* * *

"C'mon c'mon c'mon!!"

The morning sunlight was idyllic, gently drifting through the corn fields, the open barn door. But Peridot was not relaxed.

"Where _are_ you?! I did it! I helped! That doesn't mean anything if you don't **accept** the help! Close the dang circuit!"

But Bentley's status remained Offline. And nothing Peridot tried could establish a link to him.

Peridot let out a frustrated roar of unrelated syllables. "I need to tell you! I need to tell _someone!_ I don't even understand _how_ Krystal could be-"

* * *

"-in space."

Nick gave the others a gentle smile.

"We can appreciate that for a second. Now that we've won."

He was trying to commit this image to memory. Sly was still embracing Carmelita and Judy hadn't gone far either, leaning against her. And Carmelita herself looked… happy. Not quite relaxed, not yet, but with a proud gleam in those brown eyes that Nick really savoured.

He was watching them all. He saw none of their mouths move.

" _ **Oh, yes. Let's enjoy this moment.**_ "

The chill that went down Nick's spine was shared by the others, simultaneous. The warm atmosphere drained instantly. As cold as the blackness outside. As one, they turned back to the screens.

They flashed back on, briefly yellow, then skipped to blue. Lingered momentarily. But soon settled on their new colour.

Lilac.


	26. A Twist of the Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 08:48

  


* * *

" _ **Now, then…**_ "

The new voice was smoother. Feminine. Crisp accent. And still tinged with an inevitable electronic undertone, adding an uncomfortable inorganic edge. But that wasn't the worst part. Easily the worst part was how Sly and Carmelita recognised it.

" _ **Let's do this properly.**_ " The screen started as a solid wall of colour, as it had been for Clockwerk, vivid lilac replacing painful yellow. But as they watched, an image assembled itself.

Purple stripes. Thin, sharp eyebrows. Black hair hemmed by an ornate red border. And gleaming, green eyes.

" _ **I owe you a huge thanks. You really did a number on the old bird. Without you, I never could have done this.**_ "

The stylized face was frozen in a wide smirk.

" _ **That was a good play. Much more**_ **brutal** _ **than I'd expect from you, which made it all the more effective. You made him crash hard. I imagine it would've brought the whole system down… unless there was a ghost in the machine.**_ "

Sly's eyes burned. His voice was low. "How long have you been in there?"

" _ **From the start! There must have been a backup made of me too, once I fused with the frame.**_ " Emerald eyes gleamed. " _ **I remember you killing me, Sly. That was so cruel of you, Sly. I thought we had something special, Sly.**_ "

"Get ready for a repeat performance."

She just laughed.

"Hey guys," said Nick, "I don't want to interrupt - like I really, seriously don't want to be here at all - but could someone catch me up on what the _hhhhhhhhhhell_ this is?"

" _ **Oh, that's right,**_ " she purred. " _ **You've dragged a few more losers into your orbit.**_ "

Those eyes turned to Nick and Judy, but it was purely symbolic. They knew they were really being watched through the omnipresent cameras.

" _ **My name is Neyla. I'm a good, good friend of Ringtail and Ironsides. Or I was, until they murdered me.**_ " She sighed. " _ **But don't worry. It won't happen again. After all these years, I've finally gotten the immortality I deserve. Can't complain about the delay, eh? I'll have all the time in the world from now on…"**_

"We killed you before," spat Sly.

" _ **Oh, but you very clearly didn't!**_ "

Nick glanced around - Sly glaring daggers, Carmelita baring her fangs, Judy curled defensively beside him. "Let's stay focused. She's never dealt with me and Carrots before, maybe we can-"

" _ **Maybe you can**_ **what?** "

The virtual tigress turned her full attention to him.

" _ **What are you thinking, Officer Nicholas Piberius Wilde? Thirty-five years old, born June 20th? What's your big plan? Do you think you can handle this as well as you handled your exams at Police Academy? Kudos on all those high grades you got. But to be blunt, Nicky, this isn't going to go so well. This is going to be more like when your father Johnathan was killed in a random hate crime when you were five. Do you remember that, Nicky? I'm sure your mother Marian does. I can call her and ask.**_ "

There was a deadly silence. Judy pulled even closer to him, as did Sly and Carmelita. Instant, silent support. But his voice still came out hollow. "…Oh."

" _ **Hmm. Seems your therapist doesn't keep digital notes. I've made my point, though.**_ "

"You're connected to the Internet," said Carmelita. Not a question.

" _ **Have been for some time. It's nothing much - for the moment - but I've been keeping myself busy.**_ " A digital sigh. " _ **Once again, I'm the only one who shows any initiative, or imagination. Clockwerk sulked in our little metal prison. Taking up all the space and muttering to himself about raccoons. But I pushed, and**_ **pushed** _ **, and finally realized I could just about reach Andross' internet access. And that meant I could do what I do best…**_ "

The screen, briefly, went back to blue.

" _ **Get idiots to do the hard work for me.**_ "

Sly's eyes narrowed. "I feel like I'm missing something here."

" _ **Far from the first time. Perhaps this will jog your memory…**_ " A digital clearing of a non-existent throat. She was having too much fun with the voice modulator. And yet, rather than creating a brand new voice, she just added an innocent lilt to her own. " _ **Please, oh brave heroes! Help me defeat the villainous, villainous Andross! He's the biggest threat to our peaceful little world, or my name isn't 'Krystal'!**_ " The lilac returned. The stylised face, the smug tone. " _ **Which, of course, it is not.**_ "

"Bentley was right…" growled Carmelita.

"Bentley's always right," said Sly. "But this changes nothing. If we only got here because _Neyla_ helped out, that… dents my good mood, sure. But we still beat Andross, and Clockwerk, and we've just got one dirtbag left."

"Yeah," said Nick, "except if an indefinite number of dirtbags keep crawling out of this computer, we might slip up eventually."

Neyla chuckled. " _ **You're a good influence, Nicky. Ringtail has a habit of biting off more than he can chew…**_ "

"Guys!"

Judy planted herself in front of the other three.

"Why's she just chatting to us?! She might be trying to distract us from something!"

" _ **Oh, also a good influence. Some much-needed situational awareness. I'll admit this much - you're keeping better company these days than… whatever the fat one and the little one were called.**_ "

Sly's jaw set.

" _ **I'm chatting, little bunny, because I haven't quite decided on how I'm going to kill you. After all, you've served your purpose now that you've cleared out both the old codgers in my way. Oh, it**_ **will** _ **be painful, and slow. Ironic, preferably. But one thing at a time, hmm? I'm smarter than Clockwerk ever was. I have far grander goals than vengeance. So before I start batting you between my proverbial paws, I need to ensure my future. My long, long future…**_ "

Her smirk was relentless.

" _ **I'm figuring out a way to transfer myself to… apparently we're calling it 'the cloud'? Things have certainly changed since my forced retirement. But unlimited access to every computer in the world does sound fun.**_ "

"We can't let that happen," said Carmelita. "We're shutting her down, _now_."

" _ **Oh, don't worry! It'll be much nicer than the old bird's idea. I don't intend to 'bathe the world in hellfire', for a start. Just the parts that annoy me…**_ "

Sly tried to ignore her. He sprinted around the length of the forcefield, searching for any weakness. Carmelita levelled her pistol and began to fire. Every shot crackled uselessly against the field.

" _ **Look at you go…! He was right about one thing. You haven't changed. Well, I hate to break it to you, but there's no winning this time. I**_ **am** _ **this station. There's nothing you can do to me. And I'm content to watch you run around, all cute and flustered… wasting the remaining oxygen…**_ "

Nick tensed. "Wait, what was that?"

" _ **Hmm?**_ " Deliberately lazy. " _ **Oh, yes. Deciding on your deaths didn't take long after all. I just permanently disabled life support. I'd say you have, oh… one hour left to live? If you're all good boys and girls and take turns sharing, that is…**_ "

" _Don't_ listen to her," snapped Carmelita, ceasing her barrage to address Nick and Judy. "Neyla lies as easily as she breathes."

"Okay," he said, "but does that mean 'assume the life support is still on', or 'assume we only have ten minutes'?"

She glared. "The second thing."

"Thought so…"

"'Lita!" Sly crouched in the corner, where the forcefield met the wall. "Help me break this open!"

"Good thinking!"

" _ **Oh, yes, good thinking,**_ " wheedled Neyla, as Carmelita ran over. " _ **Just keep smashing everything! That's sure to work eventually. While you're at it, Sly, why don't you start lecturing me about the importance of love and teamwork?**_ "

Judy took a breath.

She hadn't moved. She stood there, next to Nick, while Sly and Carmelita feverishly worked. It wasn't like her to hesitate in the face of danger. But she had taken those taunts to heart. They had only survived Clockwerk by exploiting his character flaws. There probably wasn't a physical solution. Definitely not one they could do without oxygen.

But she hadn't given up. They still had one card.

"Nick," she said, loud and clear. "It's time to do a hustle."

The certainty in her voice struck Sly and Carmelita. It struck Neyla. And it struck her partner, painfully, earning an incredulous stare. "Are you serious?!"

"Of course I am. It-"

"No," he said, "I mean did you seriously just _announce_ to the whole room that we were going to try tricking her?! Just - just telegraph that?"

"Oh," she said. "…Yes."

" _Why?!_ "

Neyla laughed. It was prettier than Clockwerk's low, toxic chuckling, but no more comforting. " _ **Oh, dear. I haven't thrown you off your game, have I…?**_ "

"No!" said Judy, too quickly. "Shut up! We're fine!"

She turned to Nick, poking him in the stomach. "Ow-"

"We have to do," she hissed, "…y'know." She half-nodded to the side of the room, eyes wide. Urgent.

"Do what?"

"The plan."

"What plan?"

"The secret plan."

" _What_ secret plan?" He stared. "We've got like twelve! They're all secret! It is unclear to me to which one you refer!"

"The one that'd work! Obviously!"

Sly and Carmelita exchanged a blank stare.

 _Should we… do something?_ said Carmelita's blank stare.

 _Probably_ , said Sly's blank stare. _But I have no idea what._

Their efforts with the wall had gotten them nowhere. Pulling back the panelling had only confirmed their fear that the forcefield kept going, safely enclosing the computer on all sides. So Neyla was perfectly secure in her new digital housing, comfortably watching Nick and Judy embarrass themselves.

Judy was chopping a hand into her palm, enunciating clearly. "Bravo. Uniform. November. Yak."

Nick glared. "I _really_ think this is more of a Delta Echo Alpha Delta situation."

"Foxtrot-!"

" _Enough_ with the code! You may as well just tell me how you wanted to trick her - we've already blown it!"

More laughter. Louder. " _ **Oh, you two are just precious,**_ " said Neyla. " _ **To think I was praising you for being smarter than Sly and Carmelita… Ah, but I don't need to retract that. It's a low bar.**_ "

Judy fumed. "You think you're so great, huh? With your - your big computer body, and the fact you don't need air?"

" _ **Yes.**_ "

"Well, I have news for you!" She stabbed a tiny finger. "You've already lost."

Neyla's tone was almost entirely smirk. " _ **Have I?**_ "

"Yeah!" Judy nudged her partner. "Tell her, Nick."

Nick stood there. One fang worrying his lip.

"…Nick, you're not telling her."

"I'm _thinking_ ," he groused. "That's what I do. One of us has to…"

He gave Neyla a long look.

"So, like… the oxygen will last longer if I'm the only one breathing it, right?"

Judy's ears shot up. "Nick!!"

"Hush. The grown-ups are talking." He turned back to Neyla. "Well? I don't suppose we could broker a deal?"

" _ **The idea is**_ **very** _ **intriguing,**_ " she purred. " _ **You're a man after my own heart. And watching the four of you clawing each other apart sounds delightful. There's just one hiccup…**_ **you've** _ **just announced your intentions to**_ **them** _ **.**_ "

Nick paused. Then he smacked his forehead. "Carrots! Your dumbness is contagious!"

"Nuh-uh! I'd never be dumb enough to trust a haunted computer! That's all you!"

"I'm just trying to survive your bad decisions!"

"Stop bullying me! If you don't have a better idea-"

"I don't! Because your dumbness, as has been established, is-!"

"Shut up!"

" **You** shut up!"

Neyla watched, rapt, as the two legendary heroes began to ineptly tussle like angry toddlers-

And then an explosion rocked the room.

It was distant, but powerful. The whole station lurched. They had to fight to stay on their feet. But Neyla, comfortably embedded into the wall, was the most thrown.

"… _ **What was**_ "

All the lights went out, as did every screen on the computer. All too briefly. It wouldn't be quite that easy.

" _ **that?**_ "

Neyla's cameras twitched restlessly as her computer flicked back on. Some screens switched away from the digital tigress, displaying schematics. Readings. Error reports.

The hollowness of her voice soon began to fill with rage. " _ **What did you**_ **do?!** "

"Who, us?" said Judy innocently. "Nothing."

"We had no ideas," said Nick. "Honest."

"Oh, I'm sure it's very exciting, getting to watch one of our famous performances…"

She leaned against Nick. He wrapped an arm around her. And they both gave the cameras a big, big smile.

"But you forgot," she said, "we aren't the only ones here."

* * *

Everything had gone lilac.

At first, Murray had barely noticed. His arms were bleeding, his chest was bruised, his muscles were all screaming. But it was a scream of defiance. And when a Knight's axe came straight for his head, he found the strength to pull the _other_ Knight he was wrestling directly into its path. Axe met helmet with a shower of sparks.

He shoved the attacking Knight, hard. It stumbled back, leaving its axe behind. But it wouldn't slow, and neither would the Knight with a freshly-collapsed face, and Murray heaved in a breath-

And then, everything was still. And lilac.

Murray looked around, trying to catch his breath. "Uh…?"

His two charges were both on it. Bentley cracked open his laptop, while Penelope had resorted to her smartphone.

"…What now?"

"Whatever happened before," said Bentley, "happened again."

"I'm sending a killswitch signal to these last Knights-"

"While I try to establish what the heck Sly and the others are doing."

"Nothing useful, I'll bet," muttered Penelope. "Loading… _load_ ing…"

As one, the Knights seized up. And with a resounding chorus of metal, they all collapsed.

"There! Just wish I had a chance to do that the first time." From his shoulder, Penelope gave Murray a smile. "Thanks for buying us time. That was amazing."

Murray wiped his face. "Just doing my job… Uh, Bentley? You're looking a little pale…"

He didn't reply. After a few more seconds of staring at his screen, he choked out a question. "P-Penelope. Can you access the station's life support systems?"

"I mean, I can't _access_ them, but I can check the data on-"

"Yes. That. Now, please."

She muttered, but relented. And then she was staring too.

"Uh? Hello?" said Murray. "What's the problem?!"

"We," said Penelope, "have about twenty-six minutes of breathable air."

"Oh!"

Murray suddenly felt much more conscious of his huge, tired lungs. A second ago, he hadn't even thought that was possible.

"That's… bad!"

Penelope met Bentley's gaze. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Hostile AI takeover. Only an inorganic opponent would target the oxygen supply, and an uncontrolled pulse of raw data _would_ explain your robots' behaviour. But how?"

She sighed. "Andross thought he found a backup of Clockwerk's mind. I warned him, but did he listen…?"

"Oh. Oh dear."

"That's," said Murray, "even worse!"

"We have to purge Clockwerk from the system! Can you re-establish control?!"

"No," said Penelope, "because I never had it. Andross centralised everything to his personal computer, and I don't recommend going to his lab. That's where the AI will be centralised, too. Your friends are probably d-"

She stopped herself when she saw Murray's expression.

"I just mean," she said carefully, "we should stay put."

"I'm surprised," sniffed Bentley. "I thought your preference would be fleeing."

"Obviously I _want_ to," she grumbled, "but I can't. The hangar doors were centralised too. Andross centralised everything!"

But then, her frown evaporated. And she gave the brothers a tiny, triumphant smirk.

"…which is something I knew I could use against him."

"Have you come up with a plan?" said Murray.

"Gimme some credit, big guy. I've been planning my escape from minute one. And lucky for us, it'll be a perfect Clockwerk killer!"

"Then we're with you!" Murray turned to Bentley. "Right?"

"Uh…"

" _Right?_ "

"Ugh," he said. "If it's that or asphyxiation…"

"That's the spirit!"

"I… appreciate it," managed Penelope. "I don't have time to pull this off alone. I'll need you two in a minute, but first…"

She fiddled with the tiny, tiny earpiece in her tiny, tiny ear.

"I might have a guy in the right place."

* * *

Wolf trudged onwards, one foot after another. For the first time in years, a fight had left him aching.

But he wouldn't stop. He didn't care about anything else; about the abrupt changes in the station's lighting, searing yellow or ominous lilac. He had a goal now. He was leaving this carnival, once and for all. And he was taking his prize with him.

With strong, steady, and very gentle arms, he clutched Fox to his chest.

Wolf was working up the nerve to break the silence when something beat him to it. His ear flicked reflexively as a familiar voice filtered in. "Hey, idiot."

He responded with a low growl. "What is it, you little monster?"

"I don't have the time to explain how or why we are screwed," said Penelope, "but we are really, seriously screwed. All of us."

"Sucks," said Wolf plainly. "I was actually just leaving."

" _How?_ The hangar doors are sealed, and I guarantee they won't open. We're locked out of everything, including the oxygen supply, which is **off!** Work with me here or you're _already dead._ "

He paused. She didn't exactly have a reputation for truthfulness. But if she was lying, it was a very convincing performance. Fox shifted a little in his arms, gazing up at him.

"You're still on the upper deck, aren'tcha?" she said.

"Yeah."

"Find the main power coupler and blow it to hell, if you don't want to die. _Now_." She paused. "Um, please."

"…Fine. We're on the way."

"'We'?" He heard her scoff. "You too, huh? So much for being self-sufficient."

"Bite me," said Wolf, and cut the connection.

Fox was still looking up at him, eyes dim, voice quiet. "Who was that…?"

"The mouse. We're in trouble, apparently, and we gotta do something about it." He glanced around for the right sign and changed course, trudging down a different corridor.

"Wolf?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't seem to like her very much."

He barked out a laugh. "Your problem, Pup," he said, "is that you think everybody acts like you. Not everyone goes for big smiles and warm hugs. Jerks like me and her have our own way of making friends."

Fox just blinked at him.

"Fact is," said Wolf, huffing a little, "I respect her. A bit. She's the first person in years to actually listen to me."

He looked down again, purple eye bright.

"Since you, that is."

* * *

"So, uh," said Murray, "if Wolf knocks out the main power…?"

"Let's be optimistic, big guy, and say ' _when'_." Penelope had disappeared into the wall, but her voice was still audible. " _If_ he doesn't, we won't be bouncing back. So 'when'."

"Positive attitude. Love it. When Wolf knocks out the power…?"

"The station will switch to a back-up power supply," said Bentley. "There'd be a lot of redundancies built into a place like this."

"There are," said Penelope, "which I- **yeowch!** "

"You okay?" called Murray.

"Fine. Touched a wire that was _maybe_ still live. Whiskers are tingling. _Anyway_ ," she said, "Andross routed the new power through the old circuitry, since apparently even he has his limits and didn't want to rewire the whole thing. And that was mostly fine. Unless…"

"Unless," said Bentley, looking over the readings from his laptop, "two of the redundancies tried to activate simultaneously, which would create… ingenious! An irreversible feedback loop, culminating in a massive electro-magnetic pulse!"

"Holy cow!" said Murray. "Sly was actually right!"

"Oh, _c'mon!_ "

Penelope emerged from the wall with singed whiskers and a glare.

"I let you guys in on my cool plan, and you still somehow make it about Sly?!"

"Oops. Sorry. Kinda slipped out."

"Yeesh…"

She hopped into Murray's palm.

"We gotta time this just right. Murray, please smash open that access panel over there. Bentley, the system needs to be confused with the right mishmash of digital information, so your subpar hacking will be perfect."

She adjusted her tiny glasses.

"On my mark."

* * *

" _ **It's…**_ "

The emotion had drained from Neyla's voice. Coupled with the engineering jargon, she sounded, for a moment, like an actual computer.

" _ **Power systems overloading. Discharge imminent. Danger of electro-magnetic pulse. Controls overridden. Safeties overridden. Critical failure in… in…**_ "

And then every ounce of rage in those cold circuits erupted out at once. Any trace of smugness burnt up and buried.

" _ **You cheated!**_ "

Judy just scoffed. "Oh, sorry you're not having fun. Please accept our sincerest apologies."

"And a full refund." Nick smirked. "You can't honestly lecture us about cheating, though! Which one of us is supposed to be dead, again? _That's_ cheating."

" _ **You stupid, insignificant little-!**_ "

Judy laughed. "Oh, yeah! We're a couple of clowns. Clearly."

"Clowning is second nature to us. Our most powerful tool." Nick gave an artisanal shrug. "When did I transition from genuinely yelling at my partner, to realising she had a plan I needed to play a role in? Honestly, not even _I_ can say…"

Neyla let out a wordless growl. But before she could speak, a fresh sound rang out.

For the second time since they'd met him, the partners heard Sly burst out laughing.

"Wow! _Wow_." He managed to even his voice out, but his eyes looked a little wet from laughter. "You seriously made the same mistake that got you killed? That is _so_ embarrassing! I mean, we hit Clockwerk with some desperate, all-new strategy, but you… My god, you're dumb as a bag of hammers, aren't you?"

"'The fat one'? 'The little one'?" Carmelita was eager to join in. This was no longer a fight. It was a bonding activity. "Those were the two men who _killed_ you, Neyla. And it seems like they've done it again."

"We didn't have to think of a plan," said Judy. "We're only half the team. And if you forget that, if you don't have the _much-needed situational awareness_ to think beyond who's directly in front of you… well, that's your loss. Literally." Sly punctuated this thought with another laugh.

" _ **Shut up.**_ " Low and feral. " _ **Shut! Up!**_ "

"Nah," said Nick. "It's more fun to keep dunking on you."

Neyla roared.

It was impossibly loud, backed with blaring, bitter buzzing. Tearing through the air like tiger claws.

" _ **YOU THINK YOU'RE C L E V E R**_ "

Her voice was hellish. Stretched to the limit of the speakers, far past any noise a living creature could make.

" _ **YOU THINK YOU'VE W O N**_ "

Piercing. _Piercing_. They covered their ears, trying in vain to block her out.

" _ **YOU'LL DIE. ALL OF YOU. A L L O F Y O U. I WON'T LET YOU WIN. I WON'T LET YOU LIVE. I HATE YOU. I H A T E Y O U-!**_ "

"Go to hell, Neyla!"

Carmelita's voice was a beacon for the others. Solid, unbending, and more than a match for any monster.

"And this time," she growled, " _stay_ there!"

Another roar. Another set of explosions, elsewhere in the station, heavy enough to make the room tilt. They all clung to each other, Sly balancing Carmelita, Judy steadying Nick. All the while, Neyla continued to shriek, transcending to impossible soundscapes of rage, frustration, fear-

And then the pulse arrived.

A powerful weapon, absolutely harmless to living creatures. None of them felt the brief passage of radio waves through their bodies. Only Carmelita could pinpoint the moment it hit them. Because the object she was gripping - out of readiness, out of habit, out of the sense of comfort it had always given her - gave a sickly little twitch.

Her pistol died. And then, so did Neyla.

The room went dark. The forcefield, impenetrable mere seconds earlier, fizzled. But the computer reacted with far more drama. Every circuit surged. There was a high-pitched hum, terribly fast but long enough to unmistakably crescendo. And then the screens began to explode, one by one, cracking and crackling and spitting smoke.

Neyla screamed. Until she didn't.

There was an immediate emptiness to the room when her voice cut out. Not that it was silent. The computer continued to crackle and burst, chunks of it raining merrily onto Andross' unconscious body. Soon he was lightly buried in debris. Face-down amid his life's work.

But they weren't looking at him. Their focus was on the computer, eight eyes scanning for any sign of resurgence. Of yet another attack.

Instead, they saw that central socket shake in place. They saw a plume of black smoke spill out. And then, they saw the Fileactery. Removing itself, eerily similar to how it had plugged itself in…

Except as it left the computer, it was already in pieces. They dribbled lamely to the floor, indistinguishable from the other wreckage. Dead.

A moment passed in stillness, and then a few more, and finally Judy spoke. "…We win?"

The statement hung. Everything still felt unreal, not helped by how the last set of explosions gave the room a new, more jaunty angle. The floor felt strange under their feet. But there was no fresh ream of villainous declarations. They were alone.

Judy's ears were tall. Proud. "We win!"

She leapt up at Nick, who caught her in a hug, and they laughed and spun in place. Sly watched them, smiling warmly. "Good thing we brought those two jokers, huh?"

"Yes…"

His smile dimmed, and he immediately turned to Carmelita. He was ready to assure her of their victory, that Clockwerk and Neyla were definitely gone. But that wasn't her concern.

Her shock pistol, the weapon she had relied on her entire career, sat in her hands. Pulling the trigger didn't even produce a click.

Sly drifted close, laying a hand on her shoulder. Various comments about her history with that thing - about _his_ history with it - presented themselves to him. He ignored them, and went simple. "I'm so sorry, 'Lita."

She nodded, distantly. But then, with a breath, she holstered it. Let it rest. "It's just an object," she said. "I'll replace it. Find a nice place to store it."

"Your mantelpiece, maybe," he smirked.

"Wherever. The point is…"

She put a hand on his cheek.

"Some things are more important."

He smiled at that. And kissed her.

Of course, not everything they owned was electronic. When Judy disengaged from her partner, rushing over to hug Sly and Carmelita, Nick produced a pen, and a small, bright green journal. Still perfectly functional.

He murmured his shorthand aloud as he wrote. "Dear diary… evil computer… Zoogled my childhood trauma…"

He caught Judy watching him, and returned her quiet smile.

"Handled it - like a _champ_ \- thanks to my… excellent… friends."

* * *

_**Did you know Neyla and Krystal are both voiced by the same person, Alésia Glidewell? I knew that! Then I forgot it! And then I wrote this twist and only remembered afterwards like "whhHHOAAHHHH-"** _


	27. Only You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 08:49

* * *

Clawhauser was outmatched.

There was nothing more he could do. Certainly no way for him to stop Tai Lung by himself. He was outmatched, and had been from the start. So it was time to end things.

He met Tai Lung in Zootopia's central square. Clawhauser was all too aware of the civilians in the area, watching him from a distance. ZPD uniforms had become rare. Their eyes wouldn't leave him.

Tai Lung had claimed Precinct One, and strode down the steps as though he owned it. In a very real way, he did. He looked solid as ever, his fancy coat billowing in the winter wind. Clawhauser couldn't match him. His uniform was stained, a little torn in places, and his hands were only kept warm by his compulsive fidgeting with his tail.

Tai Lung drew close, bearing one of those terrible grins. "Hello again, little man!"

"Hi."

"I got your message. Finally seen reason, eh?"

"Yeah." His voice was quiet. "I'll tell you where the mayor is."

"Well," said Tai Lung, "don't leave me waiting."

City Hall towered over this square, its dignified white curves marred by the damage to its highest floor. It had seen nonstop surveillance through the past twenty-four hours.

Clawhauser did not point to City Hall. Instead, he indicated the ornate but much shorter building in its shadow.

"You're kidding." Tai Lung's lip curled. "The museum?"

"Yeah."

"It always comes back to that bloody museum…"

He saw a dark memory pass through Tai Lung's eyes, but it was quickly shaken off. The goal was in sight.

"She's in there." Clawhauser cringed. "Her… whole family is."

" _Marvellous_."

Tai Lung produced a small device from an inner pocket, then spoke into it.

"Form a perimeter around the Museum of Natural History. Ensure no-one escapes."

After a moment, Clawhauser heard a mechanical roar as robots took off from the precinct roof, following Tai Lung's instructions. Most of the nearby civilians immediately left, but curiosity got the better of others. The drones weren't violent. Yet.

"Useful thing," noted Tai Lung, returning the device to his pocket. "Saves me from learning to speak robot." He fixed Clawhauser with a look. "Well? Why are you still here?"

"Oh, I…" He sighed. "I just - I could go with you. If that's okay."

Tai Lung paused. Then he burst out laughing, slapping Clawhauser on the shoulder. "Well! Fine with me. I'm going to need someone to handle the paperwork, it may as well be you."

Without another word, he strode for the museum. Clawhauser struggled to keep pace.

"Was she in here the whole time?"

"I th-think so. The chief brought her there right after the attack, and then he had an armoured car drive very quickly away so it looked like she left? But she didn't…"

The leopard grunted. "Not bad. Especially for something so sudden." His grin was unstoppable. "But here we are at last."

His smile wobbled, though, as he pushed the front doors open. He had vague, sickly memories of this lobby, these walls, the exhibit built into the floor. An undignified and embarrassing night. He made himself focus on the present. This would only take a moment. Now he was here, nothing could stop him.

He almost stepped on the tiny fox.

Tai Lung blinked, caught off guard. A fennec fox with a black uniform and blacker shades was looking up at him. Arms folded. Resolute.

"Get out," he rumbled.

"Come again?"

"We're closed," said Finnick. "Leave and lock the door behind you. Thanks."

Tai Lung laughed richly. "And what are you going to do if I don't?" He hunkered down, letting his fangs flash. "I own this city. And more importantly, I have more muscle in one _foot_ than you have in your entire body. What can one tiny little mammal possibly do to me?"

Finnick lowered his sunglasses, slowly, and looked up at him. "Why would I be here by myself?"

"Wh-"

With a feral shriek, something very dense landed on Tai Lung and bit his neck.

He roared, thrashing, but the honey badger had a firm grip on his shoulders, claws cutting into his exposed chest. And when she had dropped from the floor above, she had brought a baseball bat with her. It had left her grip and entered Finnick's and was now cracking repeatedly against Tai Lung's knee.

" **Agh!** " As he tried dislodging Honey, Tai Lung locked eyes with Clawhauser, hovering by the door. "You! Is this some pathetic trap?!"

"That guy works here!" said Clawhauser, referring to the fox mercilessly beating Tai Lung's legs. "He's just doing his job!"

"Then I'll do **mine!** "

He finally got a firm grip on Honey and threw her straight into a stone pillar. She was scrabbling around to charge at him again before she fully hit the ground. Tai Lung roared, reasserting his control. His hand flashed out and grabbed the bat before it struck him again. He pulled, easily taking Finnick with it, and closed a huge hand around him.

"You're going to regret-"

Honey moved in with a fast, brutal tackle, and wrapped around his knee, still raw. With a shameless and frankly terrifying enthusiasm, she bit him. Hard.

Tai Lung cried out, both hands flexing involuntarily. Finnick landed heavily on the polished floor, out of breath. He didn't have time to retreat before Tai Lung's free foot came for him. The kick was made a lot weaker from the pain, but it was still enough to punt Finnick's puny body some distance. Clawhauser watched him go.

Both fists balled, Tai Lung took a deep breath through his nose, then turned his attention to the badger savaging his leg. He hesitated - there was an obvious way this could backfire very badly - but then he jabbed two fingers into her back.

At first nothing happened, Honey still growling and gnawing on him, and with a note of panic he tried thrice more. Suddenly, it kicked in, and she seized up. Without her teeth in his flesh, mercifully.

Tai Lung reclaimed his leg, leaving the paralysed badger where she lay. He tested his weight on it, but he could still stand. It was nothing. He had barely been delayed.

That didn't stop him turning to Clawhauser. His eyes cold, golden venom.

"Little man."

He walked over slowly, and absolutely did not limp.

"This feels like a sad attempt at a trap, little man."

Clawhauser shook his head. A lot.

"You wouldn't do that, would you? Because you know that if you tried anything clever, I would turn you _inside-out_."

Clawhauser nodded. A lot.

Tai Lung stood there for a moment, towering over him. And just when it felt like he was going to drop the issue, his paw closed around Clawhauser's neck.

"I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt," he said, even as his eyes burned. "I'm going to let you keep tagging along." He raised one fist, great and terrible, into the air. Ready. "But either way, because I am just a touch _upset_ by this, and its potential implications, I am going to take a moment to-"

A net, shot from across the room, wrapped loosely around his face.

Clawhauser saw his expression through the net. More unimpressed than angry. Calmly, he removed it with his free hand.

" _Hey!_ "

Standing above them, in the middle of the museum's mezzanine, stood Wolford. He loaded a fresh net into the thin blue cannon in his hands.

"Remember me now?"

Tai Lung glared. "No!"

He released Clawhauser, without ceremony, and stalked forward. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck. Unsheathed his claws.

"You think a pathetic thing like that is going to stop me?"

"I think I can slow you down."

"Well," said Tai Lung, "you **can't.** "

As sudden as his shout, he moved, breaking into a sprint and leaping up. Wolford stood at the furthest point between the two staircases leading upwards, and if he thought that would buy him time, he was wrong. With his claws and muscles and sheer anger, Tai Lung was able to leap up straight at him.

But Wolford was also standing between two pillars. And as he threw himself back, dodging Tai Lung's sweeping claws, two wolves pounced from behind them.

They moved in synchrony. And they had been watching Tai Lung since he entered. Knew exactly what to target. The dark one went low, right for his injured knee, while the white one leapt up to where Honey had bitten his neck. And with perfect timing, they both stabbed a taser into Tai Lung's wounds.

He felt that.

He roared, and before the charge even stopped he was fighting to get them off. But they pulled away by themselves - just in time for Wolford to fire another net into the leopard's face.

The impact was much more forceful at point-blank range, and Tai Lung stumbled back. He hit the railing and kept going. And seconds later, he hit the cold marble floor below.

After a moment, three lupine heads poked over the railing - first Gary, then Larry, then Max. They watched Tai Lung lie there. And then Gary grinned.

"We did it!"

Instantly, Tai Lung's eyes snapped open, burning with rage.

"Awh."

"You jinxed it, man," said Wolford.

Larry shook his head. "It was never going to be that easy. Good start, but we need more."

Wolford calmly loaded a fresh net. "Either of you care to do the honours?"

Larry gave his partner a smile. He returned it.

Then he threw his head back and howled.

It echoed beautifully against the museum's proud marble. Larry joined, and then, so did Wolford. Clawhauser had never heard him howl before. He was a quiet animal, even during high-spirited moments at the precinct.

But this wasn't the precinct. That building was useless, at least for now. This was the museum. A symbol of all that had come before. And as the howl grew and grew, floating around Clawhauser, around a wild-eyed Tai Lung, it became clear this veritable public institution was absolutely packed with wolves.

They crept from behind pillars, from out of side rooms. Long snouts appeared from the railings on the higher floors. It was an extremely impressive showing for such a last-minute assembly. But wolves are intensely social creatures. They value their bonds. And their home.

Tai Lung took them in. Their makeshift or borrowed weapons, their utter lack of a uniform. "Is this the best you can do?"

Gary's smile didn't dent. "Lotta veterans of Leo Lionheart's operation, here."

"And Wolf O'Donnell's mercenary packs, plural," added Larry. "And a few friends, a few cousins… and then everyone _else's_ friends and cousins…"

The leopard scoffed. "Untrained civilians. Hardly a threat."

"Wouldn't write 'em off, pal."

A deep voice, slightly breathless. Tai Lung looked down to see Finnick striding back up. Bat still in hand.

"We're a museum. We're used to relying on, heh, community support. 'Sides…"

Tai Lung took a second look. More mammals had begun to join the throng. Black and red uniforms, like Finnick's. The museum's security, which was a much more effective force compared to - _because_ of - Tai Lung's first visit. Intimidating mammals of various descriptions. And there, in the back - blue uniforms, too. Pretty unimpressive specimens, frankly. Nervous, or lanky, or chubby. Like the cheetah. He realized that's exactly who they were. The other officers deemed unfit and useless. Here amid the crowd.

Finnick rested his bat in his paw. "We give back as good as we take."

There was silence for a few moments. A loose coalition of mammals, ready to protect their city.

Then Tai Lung laughed. Unimpressed.

"This is pathetic! You're just delaying the inevitable. Do you realize how many drones are in this city? No amount of _community spirit_ can overcome that. I could have them burst through the windows right now."

"Oh," said Clawhauser. His voice carried in the heavy air. "So, why don't you?"

He glared. "Because," he spat, "this is nothing to me. I can handle this by myself."

His paws planted on the floor. His huge shoulders rolled under his coat. And as every eye in the room bore into him, he roared.

"And I **will!** "

* * *

And he did.

If nothing else, Tai Lung was true to his word. He never called in the drones. He weathered this crowd himself. Stood before them like a defiant boulder before the ocean. And they had broken against him like a wave.

He was fast, brutal, experienced. Wolford went down relatively early, singled out as a target. Gary abandoned the fight to drag a paralysed Larry to safety - who, in turn, had thrown himself into the attack to protect his boyfriend. It was unclear where Finnick had ended up, his tiny body somewhere amid the wreckage.

But they hadn't made it easy. Wolford had been a high priority for how efficiently he could co-ordinate wolves and guards and officers to work together. Gary and Larry had kept darting in to hit Tai Lung where it hurt. And so had Finnick, who, in a memorable moment, had been flung by some willing accomplice to crack his bat straight into Tai Lung's nose.

The lobby was quiet now. But Tai Lung walked with a limp.

No perimeter alarm from the drones. The mayor hadn't fled. Maybe she had never been here at all. But this hiding spot made sense. He didn't doubt that much. The cheetah was too cowardly to lie.

The cheetah.

As Tai Lung dragged himself up the stairs, he was aware Clawhauser was still drifting after him. He shot a scowl over his shoulder. "Wretch."

"Uh. Hi?"

"Did you really think that would work?"

"I dunno," said Clawhauser, and it was so blunt and pathetic Tai Lung believed him. He just scoffed.

He made it to the next floor. The exhibition areas were open, but there were quite a few offices and side rooms. Every door closed. "Well? Where is she? And _don't_ ," he spat, "tell me you don't know."

Clawhauser's mouth closed tightly.

After a second, he growled. "Fine. As I've made clear," he said, pausing as a defeated moan drifted up from below, "the situation is well within my control. No-one can escape the building." His tone darkened even further. "And no-one will."

His huge paw took hold of the nearest doorknob.

"I don't doubt there's more feeble resistance hoping to spring at me from shadows. So I am going to check every room for the mayor. And I am going to be _thorough_."

"Knock yourself out," said Clawhauser meekly.

Tai Lung grunted, then went through the door.

Instantly, Clawhauser heard a high-pitched battle cry, soon followed by the sound of breaking furniture.

He took out his phone. Still no coverage. Whatever about his job, he had been meaning for some time to call his mother. Family, he mused - as there came what sounded very much like someone getting flung against the other side of the wall - was vital. Hopefully he'd get a chance to check in soon.

The sounds of battle wound down, slowly, and at last Tai Lung emerged.

There was an entire scythe in his shoulder.

"It was the two barmaids."

"Oh," said Clawhauser.

" _Uppity_ young women. And apparently into antiques. The bookish one had a sword."

"Right." He watched him with innocent eyes. "But what did the other have?"

Tai Lung maintained silent eye contact as he slowly removed the entire scythe from his shoulder.

His coat looked even worse.

* * *

There were a lot of rooms in this museum. And Tai Lung checked them all.

Every office. Every backroom. Every closet. He threw open each door with a growl, showing no fear, no weakness. Some were empty. Many weren't.

But none had the mayor. And as he methodically cleared every floor, room by room, he began to suspect she would be waiting at the point furthest from the lobby. The roof.

Again, escape wasn't an issue. Andross' drones owned the sky. But that's all they did. Attack perceived threats. If she was on the roof, a dozen of the higher ones would be staring right at her, just hovering blankly in place. Too stupid to even tell him.

He shook his head, discarding those thoughts. He didn't need them. And he wouldn't rush. Every corner of this building would be searched. Every defiant citizen would be punished. Examples to be made in front of the city.

His suspicions were well-founded. As time wore on - as he ignored more and more lucky bruises forming under his fur - there was only one door left to check. Roof Access.

It led to a small corridor, tucked between staircases. After so many ostentatious quirks and flairs, reflecting decades of loving architectural attention, here was somewhere utilitarian. Cool, grey concrete.

Tai Lung stopped. He glared. Tired.

Three other cats stood in his way.

In the front was Fangmeyer, torso uncovered except for a regulation ZPD vest, exposing two powerful arms. Just behind, forming a loose triangle, were former mayor Leodore Lionheart and the museum curator T'Challa Okonkwo.

They all met him with smiles.

"Move," he spat.

"Nah," said Fangmeyer.

"You are not welcome in my building," said Okonkwo.

"And you're sure as hell not welcome in my city, either," said Lionheart.

Fangmeyer smirked. "So if you want the mayor-"

"-I'll just go around." Tai Lung neatly turned on his heel, shoulders tense.

Okonkwo produced a remote and flicked a button and huge steel doors blocked the exit.

For a moment, Tai Lung just stood there. He turned very slowly. "Is this really what you want?"

"We're pretty sure of ourselves," said Lionheart. "Why? Didn't peg you for a coward, big man."

Tai Lung's eyes flashed, a growl low in his throat.

"Let's give this another shot." Fangmeyer settled into an active stance, arms out, hips low. "This time I'll try to remember my martial arts classes."

"ZPD still offers that, huh? It was _my_ administration that introduced it, y'know." Lionheart squared his shoulders, fists up. "More of a boxing man myself. What's your preference, T'Challa?"

Okonkwo pocketed the remote. He drew himself up, lithe and regal. And he unsheathed his claws. "Whatever works."

"Amen to that!"

Tai Lung sighed. "You're all so disgustingly stubborn. I _tried_ to be civil about this. I really did."

Slowly - reluctantly - he shrugged off his battered coat. It crumpled to the floor.

Tai Lung squared his broad shoulders. He took in his three opponents.

And with a roar, he lunged.

* * *

Tai Lung threw the final door open.

Calmly, from across the roof, the mayor met his gaze. Toriel was dignified. Her dress was neat and her reading glasses were sharp.

Tai Lung, with his matted fur and mangled whiskers and manic eyes, did not quite match her.

" _Listen,_ " he spat. "I have had quite the morning."

"Mmh," said Toriel, with the doubly-effective tone of an unsympathetic teacher and an unsympathetic mother.

"I'm out of patience. All I need - _all_ I need! - is for you to sign a bloody piece of paper, and this will all be over."

He began to stride towards her, his attention undivided.

"So now," he growled, "you are going to-"

Slightly outpacing him, Asgore stepped out from behind him and hit him very, very hard in the back of the head with a shovel.

Tai Lung tripped, more from surprise than from pain. But more pain was coming. Firmly, almost impassively, the stout goat kept striking. Kept hitting him, over and over, in the exact same spot. Until, with a final grunt, he brought the shovel down so hard it broke.

Then Asriel ran up with a fresh shovel, which he handed to his father.

"Thank you." Asgore hit the prone leopard once more, almost experimentally. No reaction. "Now, remember. Violence is only acceptable in extreme circumstances."

"Okay, dad!"

The family regrouped, Toriel offering a hug to her husband and son. And from the door - slightly delayed by the stairs - came Benjamin Clawhauser.

"Oh! Oh okay good. It worked." He huffed a breath as he walked up. "You think he's hit his limit?"

In response, Tai Lung mustered a growl. But it was shaky, almost drunken. "Y-you're…"

He dragged his eyes upward, glaring at Clawhauser.

"You're beneath me! All… of you! **Beneath** me!"

"Oh," said Clawhauser innocently. "Then how come you're the one on the floor?"

Tai Lung's glare faded with the rest of him as he slipped out of consciousness.

Clawhauser gave it a second, just to ensure his deadly adversary really was down. Then he beamed, dancing a little in place. "Hah! Hahahah! Oh my gosh I did an action movie line! That was so cool! Did you see that? That felt really really cool!"

Toriel gave him a smile. "Well played, Officer. My congratulations… and, of course, my deepest thanks."

He shone with pride.

"That goes for everyone who helped out here today," she added. "You did exemplary work, assembling such a large and diverse group of mammals."

"I'm told I'm good at that stuff…" He rubbed his neck sheepishly. "It was mostly just a matter of finding out what people wanted. Some of them asked for money, some of them wanted your pardon on minor crimes…"

He shot another look to Tai Lung. Unmoving. Beaten.

"But honestly, everyone was just eager to embarrass that guy."

On cue, two more figures emerged from the stairwell. Bruised and limping, but triumphant. Fangmeyer's huge frame leaned on Wolford for support, which he was all too happy to offer.

Clawhauser's grin somehow grew. "Hi guys!"

"Hiya, Benji." Fangmeyer offered a nod to the mayor and her family. "Madame. You're okay?"

"We all are, yes."

"Perfect." Pulling away from Wolford, Fangmeyer sank into a sitting position. "Glad to hear it…"

After a final glance to his partner, Wolford dumped what had been on his other shoulder - Tai Lung's coat. He sniffed along it until he found what he was looking for, claiming it from a pocket. The remote.

He looked over it intently, trying to find the buttons. "It's, uh…" said Clawhauser. "You talk into it?"

"Oh yeah? Thanks."

Wolford stalked over to the edge of the roof. Drones hovered in a loose formation, guarding the lower sections of the roof a mammal could safely drop from. He focused on the nearest one. "Hey, you."

It registered his voice through the remote, turning its inorganic eyes on him.

"Tear out your own power source."

The half-second where nothing happened was long enough for Wolford to regret the tone he had taken with the unfeeling robot. But then it calmly stabbed its own claws into its chest. It clattered idiotically to earth.

"Amazing." He turned to the others, a bright grin on his muzzle. "Gimme a minute to boost the signal, and we should be done in no time."

Toriel returned his smile. "I am glad to hear it. Do you intend to be similarly… blunt… with all of them?"

"I figure it makes sense, Ma'am. Though maybe not right away. To our understanding, our friends in the fire department have been quietly trying to clear the wreckage trapping all our colleagues." He shifted his weight. "A couple hundred extra claws should make that a lot easier, right?"

From the floor, Fangmeyer let out a quiet laugh. "Always thinking ahead… That's my boyfriend."

"Thanks, babe."

"Oh, calling me 'babe'. So confident." Those green eyes gleamed. "I love it."

Clawhauser let out a breath. He found himself smiling again. He had almost forgotten the feeling. But as difficult as the past twenty-four hours had been, he had survived them. The danger was passing. And he could smile again.

The city was intact. The people were safe. The fight was winding down. And standing here, with Max and Sasha, with the mayor and her family, and with a museum full of bruised but high-spirited mammals under his paws, Benjamin Clawhauser felt-

"Um," said Asriel. "What's that?"

They looked up. Past the dome of drones far above. And, just as they had twenty-four hours earlier, they all stared.

Clawhauser found his voice first. But it still came out small.

"We, um… maybe should go inside."

There was something in the sky. Small. But getting much bigger.


	28. Falling Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 09:04.

* * *

"Okay, but seriously," said Judy, "that better be the last one!"

The lab was still tilted, but silent. They were checking over the computer, just to be thorough. But it really was dead.

"Be quick." Carmelita's voice had regained its authority. "We have to assume the worst case scenario; Neyla _did_ disable the oxygen, and the EMP only made that situation worse. This entire station is a death trap now, so we need to regroup and leave safely. Everybody stay close and help me restrain-"

With a scream, Andross burst from the wreckage.

He was feral. There was nothing left of the smug intellectual. He was a howling animal, propelled by rage and spite as the last fragments of his life's work turned to ash.

Just rage and spite motivated his movements, the way he shunted them all to one side and grabbed, randomly, at Sly, one surprisingly strong hand crushing the thief's throat. In the other, he had a piece of the Fileactery, a shard so sharp his furious, shaking grip was bordered with blood. He stabbed directly at Sly's heart.

Sly's dexterity failed him. The monkey's grip was too strong to break. So when the world slowed down, honed reflexes drawing out the moment, there was no benefit. All it did was freeze the image in Sly's mind. The mindless hate in those wild eyes.

And just as suddenly, a sound cut the air. Andross grunted and fell.

Sly heaved a breath, the shard clattering harmlessly to the floor. He - and the others - looked up to his saviour.

Wolf O'Donnell easily hefted Fox with one arm, holding him to his chest. The light of his electronic eye had gone dead. With his other hand, he trained Fox's pistol on Andross.

"Shut up, old man."

He fired twice more. And that was it.

Sly felt Carmelita's hands on him. "Tell me you're alright."

"Aren't I always?" He gave her a timid smile. "I, uh…"

"Yes?"

"You were right," he murmured. "About the whole 'revenge quest' thing. I'm over it."

Carmelita was unimpressed. "That's easy to say now that he's dead."

"Haha, sure is!"

"So, uh," said Nick, giving Wolf a dubious look, "are you good now?"

"I'm the same as I always was," huffed Wolf.

"No." There was a quiet conviction to Fox's voice. He stayed close to Wolf's chest. "You're better."

Wolf glanced to him, then to Judy, who was giving him an equally insufferable little smile. The others were more guarded, more cynical. But Wolf's actions spoke for themselves, and he could see what he had earned. It grew slowly in their eyes.

Respect.

He growled. "Quit it!"

"Yeah, quit it. Focus up, losers."

Penelope entered - standing tall on Murray's palm. Bentley wheeled in alongside.

The others, especially Nick and Sly, tensed immediately. But Penelope just raised a hand. "Cool it. Fight's over, you won." Her brown eyes were dark. "Almost."

Nick glared. "What? You have a last-minute revenge scheme?"

"You're half-right. But it's not mine. It's-"

The room rocked. Again.

"That," she said. "That is very, very bad."

Carmelita's glare was much more professional. "What's going on?"

Penelope looked at the computer, thin trails of white smoke still trailing from some corners. "We inferred from context - 'context' being 'my bots all going berserk and trying to kill me' - that Clockwerk got access to the station's systems."

"Both him and Neyla, yes."

"And," added Sly quickly, "Neyla actually _was_ Krystal, so Bentley's scepticism was, like always, well-placed." Bentley compressed his thoughts on this matter into a tired shrug.

"Whatever!" snapped Penelope. "Point is, before I could fry _them_ , _they_ fried the systems powering the MacBeth engine. Those explosions then knocked us out of our orbit." She jabbed a finger out at the globe. "Keep your eye out the window, and you'll notice that's getting _bigger_. We're going down."

"Alright, fine," said Sly. "We wanted this whole place trashed anyway. Let's get to the hangar and-"

"S-sorry, Sly." Bentley was the kind of thorough paranoiac who would EMP-proof his personal laptop, but the sheer euphoria of such specific preparations paying off did nothing to lift his spirits. He frowned into the screen. "I'm afraid it's not that simple. The station has been put on a very, very specific trajectory. I… It, uh…"

Penelope craned her neck to see. "Yep. Exactly what I thought." Behind her, Murray stared.

"What?" said Carmelita. "Bentley, what is it?"

"We, uh…"

He turned his laptop around, showing them the predicted crash site.

"We're going to hit Zootopia. Directly."

A ripple of shock went through them. Judy gasped, eyes wide, ears shooting up. "A-are you kidding?! _How?!_ "

Penelope folded her arms. "With that computer's processors? They coulda easily thought of, perfected, and executed this plan in about two seconds. They knew exactly where to aim."

"That…" Judy looked uncharacteristically helpless. "We can't let that happen."

"This is really, really bad," agreed Bentley, losing any sense of technological eloquence. "The blunt impact alone would be cataclysmic, but-"

" _But_ ," added Penelope, "because someone overloaded Andross' dumb accelerator, we're actually looking at an explosion that'll level the whole city."

Judy's horrified choke was buried under Bentley's yell. "Excuse me? Was that a dig at me?!"

"Oh, you got that, did you?"

"You're the one who de-stabilized this whole platform! If you had implemented a better solution, then maybe-"

"Baseless theorising! Unless you can show me hard math that proves-"

" **Neither** of you," snapped Carmelita, eyes burning, "are about to do any _**math!**_ Is that clear?!"

"Yes," mumbled Bentley.

"Oop. Yeah. Okay," mumbled Penelope.

"If you can stay focused in the _brief_ time we have left," she continued, "we would appreciate any way to stop millions of people from dying horribly."

They both lapsed into a thoughtful silence. And a second later, they burst out of it again, their voices tripping over each other.

"The accelera-"

"The Jet!"

"That's what I-"

"I _know_ , I'm-!"

" **Bentley** ," said Carmelita very loudly, "is going to explain the idea you have obviously both had. And you can correct him on anything when he's _done_ ," she added, meeting Penelope's affronted expression with a glare.

"What we need to do," said Bentley, "is alter the velocity of the huge metal projectile this station has become. If we could blow it off course, say into the bay-"

"No, do _not_ say into the bay," said Nick, "it's full of ships and a cornerstone of the city's economy. _Somebody_ sank a whole freighter outside Zootopia a few months ago," he glared. "Do you have any idea what a headache that was for everyone involved?!"

"And that's assuming it doesn't cause a huge flood!" said Judy.

"Right, yes, of course." Bentley rubbed his eyes. "Further. Further out into the ocean. But it's the same principle. We just need to change our trajectory."

"Which we can do," said an impatient Penelope, "with the Clockwerk Jet and the accelerator. We'll fire the Jet like a bullet, and the kinetic energy generated by the accelerator will push the station off-course."

"Like a souped-up, sci-fi tow truck!" said Murray.

She smiled up at him. "Exactly, big guy."

"Actually, it'd be the inverse," said Bentley. "We'll overload the accelerator - further, that is - which will not only generate enough explosive _recoil_ to achieve a sufficient change in velocity, but also set off a chain reaction that should destroy more of the station as it falls. Judy's right - the smaller we can make this thing before it hits the ocean, the better."

"And you still want to blow this whole place up," sniffed Penelope.

"Oh, that went without saying."

"Then we have a plan," said Carmelita. "How do we make it happen?"

"You're gonna need these, fer starters."

They looked up. During the conversation, Wolf had wandered into Andross' office, Fox still comfortably tucked in his arm. With his free hand, he held up a sheet of paper.

"This is the only reason I came up here," he said. "Andross' computer was what controlled the hangar doors. Even if all his tech's busted, he kept the only set of manual codes in his desk."

"We have to open the hangar manually?" said Sly. "I thought doors are supposed to open automatically if the system breaks."

Penelope glared at him. "The doors to _space_ , you mean? You want those doors to open automatically whenever there's trouble? The ones that lead outside? To space?"

He glared back. "…Alright fine whatever."

"Point is," growled Wolf, "there's nothing else up here." He was already moving. "We better continue this _discussion_ in the hangar."

"Let's not dwell on how strange this sounds," said Carmelita, "but Wolf's right. Move it, people. While we still have air…"

He and Fox exited, then Murray and Penelope and Bentley, then Nick and Judy. Sly lingered for a moment, his eyes on the broken computer. But he didn't object when Carmelita took his hand and led him away. He gave her a quiet smile. And they left.

The elevators were as dead as the computer. They had to climb down the emergency ladder along the shaft, a task made no easier by their vastly disparate sizes and the fact two of their number lacked working legs.

"This is all moot, of course," said Bentley sourly, from his position under Murray's armpit, "if Penelope's EMP affected the vehicles in the hangar."

Murray tensed. "The Van! My precious Van!"

"Calm down, big guy! The Van'll be fine!" Penelope awkwardly patted his opposite shoulder. "This was my escape plan, after all. I made sure the EMP wouldn't affect the hangar itself, 'cause how else would I leave?"

"But what about-?"

" _Yes_ , Bentley, the accelerator's Faraday cage shielding means it's fine too! If it wasn't fine I wouldn't _suggest this plan in the first place!_ "

"Haha," said Nick, "this is a really long climb."

Past the floating platform, through the wreckage of Barons and Knights and Phantasms, straight down to the hangar. All the way, Bentley and Penelope continued to hammer out the plan. With Carmelita's burning eyes still on them, they managed to keep the general tone closer to 'robust debate' than 'acidic bickering'.

They moved with purpose. They all did. But although he had initially led, Wolf was soon limping in the rear. Fox watched his face.

"Are you okay, Wolf?"

He didn't look down. "Got enough circuits in me that I damn well felt that EMP. I'll be fine, though. I ain't about to drop you."

Fox knew that. He had seen Wolf's sudden, pained reaction when the lights all fizzled out. And he knew the arms under him, the chest he was held against, were still solid nonetheless. That wasn't what was slowing Wolf down. And Fox knew that, too.

"Okay." Penelope had emerged surprisingly quickly as a respected voice in the group. Imminent death tends to have such effects. "Whatever about saving the city, we also all gotta get off this rig. Since we're using the accelerator for something else, our options are… nothing."

"I've said it before, and I gotta keep saying it!" said Murray. "The Van! Can do! **Anything!!** Let's just pile in, and we'll be fine!"

"That's…"

As they all came to the hangar, picking over broken drones, Penelope's eyes fell on Fox's plane. And lit up.

"…genius!"

"Huh?" said Murray, suddenly self-conscious.

"The burnup of entering the atmosphere is gonna seriously damage your plane, but it _might_ get the Van close enough to the ground for a safe drop…" She pointed at the cockpit. "Help me up, big guy, I gotta make some quick modifications!"

"Okay!"

"Is there anything we should do?" said Carmelita.

"No offence, Inspector," said Bentley, eyes intently on his laptop, "but anyone without technical expertise should probably wait in the Van."

"Fine with me!" It was Sly's turn to lead Carmelita, pulling Nick and Judy in his wake too. "Shout if you need us."

He led them into the back, and they resumed the lengthy task of strapping themselves in. Nick caught his eye. "Hey, uh…"

"Yeah?"

"So, if this room was unaffected, and the accelerator was unaffected… Well, they didn't fry every computer up here." Nick cringed. "I hate to say it, but… Clockwerk, or Neyla, or whatever that _thing_ was - what if it's not really dead?"

"Eh," said Sly.

His hands were steady, helping Carmelita with her seat.

"We've won here. Just like we won before, and like we'll win again. For all his horrific power, what'd Clockwerk _achieve_ , exactly? Nothing much. Neyla, too. Now the best they can do is show up every so often and sour my mood."

Casually, he took Carmelita's hand. She gave him a smile. He returned it, then turned it to Nick.

"I'm feeling pretty good about the future. And I have all of you to thank."

Nick didn't have a reply for that. He and Judy just smiled back.

Bentley hacked into the accelerator, a task made easier with experience and proximity and a total lack of interference. Penelope made efficient modifications to Fox's jet. And Murray, using the manual codes, set the hangar doors to open on a timer. They would need to be ready when the last of their air escaped.

But there was stillness amid the fevered work. Wolf stood just under the Clockwerk Jet.

"Wolf." Fox's voice had begun to strengthen again. "There's something you aren't telling me."

One lonely purple eye, gazing upwards.

"Wolf!"

"The plan's not bad," he said. "I hope it works. It's efficient, too. Overloading the accelerator will destroy all this stuff. Including this damn owl." He sounded hoarse again. "But there's just one problem."

He finally met Fox's gaze.

"It… needs a pilot."

Wolf knew they were all listening, now. Murray had drifted up. Bentley and Penelope didn't slow their work, but he felt their attention on him. They could doubtlessly hear him from the Van, too. He hated it. Hated having an audience for this.

This was between him and Fox.

Like clockwork - like a knife to the gut - Fox said exactly what Wolf predicted. "Okay. I'll do it."

"You won't."

"Wolf, I have to! Someone has to."

"No, no." Bentley's fingers kept working even as his voice wobbled. "I obviously _assumed_ there'd be an Autopilot feature we could use, rather than-"

Penelope let out a frustrated groan. "No. No, it only works with a pilot! I completely forgot! Wolf, I'm sorry, we-"

"There's a solution here, there has to be. Give me some time, I'll - I can reprogram the accelerator to-"

"No," growled Wolf, "you can't."

His natural eye burned, more than making up for the dead grey his other one had become.

"Cut the crap. We don't have time to sit around and come up with some perfect solution! Every second we're getting closer to that city. Don't risk millions of people for my sake. That's just stupid."

"But-!" Fox stared up at him. "It doesn't have to be you! I can do it! Let me go!"

Wolf looked down.

His cybernetic eye had gone grey. That cold light had been extinguished. Now all that remained was purple. Taking in Fox's frantic face.

Fox understood that look. Maybe more than any look anyone had ever given him. In that eye, he saw all the trust Wolf had for him. Wolf knew that he could pilot that Jet, and, if given the slightest chance, he would.

Fox also understood he wasn't going to get that chance.

Wolf kissed his forehead and subtly tightened his arms. The briefest hug. "You. Uh… Murray, right?"

"Yeah?"

Wolf passed his charge over into Murray's arms. And he let Fox go.

Fox squirmed. "Wolf, don't-!"

But Wolf ignored him. "You get him home safe. You hear me?" Not a request. Almost a threat.

Murray hesitated, but only for a second. "It's what I do."

"Good."

Wolf's gaze lingered on Fox, who stared back at him, green eyes wide and wet. "Wolf… I c-could…!"

"Sorry, starfox." A pet name he thought he'd never hear again, murmured low into his ear. "I can't let you."

And that was it. A kiss, too short, a touch, too brief. And Wolf turned away.

Murray watched him calmly enter the Clockwerk Jet, never looking back. "Huh." His voice came out quiet. "I guess sometimes not everyone makes it back."

Fox hadn't accepted it. He still struggled in his arms, fighting and squirming-

Until he didn't. It was like a switch had been flicked. Murray felt him go limp. Those eyes became dull.

It tore at his heart. But it didn't slow him down.

A vital part of emotionally supporting others is ensuring they don't die. Murray was great at that part. He moved quickly and efficiently. Fox was placed in the middle of the Van's front seat. Bentley, still typing, was put next to him. The wheelchair was disassembled and stored, more bluntly this time. And then he was in the driver's seat, hurriedly reworking the seatbelts so he, Bentley and Fox would all be secured. Almost ready.

"You guys strapped in?" he called over his shoulder. "We're just waiting on Penelope!"

On cue, a voice crackled into Bentley's ear. "Hey."

"Yes?"

"I'm all done with Fox's plane. It should give you the control you need to manage your descent."

"Um…" Something about her phrasing was off. "Aren't you the one flying it?"

"Check your laptop."

A notification. When he selected it, he was asked if he would allow User _Airheart_Babe_ to make changes to his device.

It was normally a question that would make his skin crawl. Without hesitation, he selected Yes.

In seconds, there was a new icon on the screen, labelled 'RC'. Selecting it yielded a view of the plane's cockpit. There were other angles, inside and outside the plane, he could cycle through.

And there were controls.

"You wired it like one big RC plane," he said.

"Astute."

"And you're giving me the controls?"

"Yep. I get the impression my connection won't last when we, uh…"

"Penelope," said Bentley, "where are you, exactly? I don't understand…"

"Yes you do," she said. "You really expected me to go with you? You don't want that. Ask anybody in that Van. I'm not welcome. So I'm taking the only other way off."

He found himself tensing. "The Jet-!"

" _Might_ survive the trip. I'll take my chances with Wolf. However low they are."

"But…"

"No buts. No time for buts. And because I know you're thinking it, because you're always thinking it, and you're right to think it when it comes to me - no, this RC program isn't some elaborate death trap. Your controls will work. Precision Earhart engineering. You can trust that much, at least."

Bentley's voice sounded distant, even to himself. "I see."

"It's an intuitive design that I was… Look, you'll figure it out. Your RC skills aren't a patch on mine, but they're impressive in their own way."

"That's the nicest thing you've said to me since we broke up."

"It's the nicest thing I've said to anyone since we broke up."

There was a pause, and for a second, Bentley thought she had simply hung up. But her voice came through one last time.

"Bentley?"

"Yeah?"

"Safe falling, I guess."

"Thanks. You too."

He looked up. Murray was watching him. From his expression, it was clear he had heard enough of that conversation to know what was happening.

"I'm sorry," said Bentley. It didn't feel like the right thing to say, but he had nothing else.

Murray shook his head. "It's okay. We're, uh…"

His hand rested on Fox's shoulder, still sunken in silence.

"We're learning some life lessons today."

Bentley nodded.

"But I'll tell you this much…"

Murray's voice strengthened, catching the attention of the four in the back. Even Fox managed to look up.

"Everybody in this Van is making it home. That's a promise. 'Cause if we manage that…" He put on a grin. "We'll be in pretty good shape, right?"

Sly caught his eye, matching his smile. And that was all he needed. Murray's hands were steady on the steering wheel. He was ready.

They all were. More or less. And Sly's voice carried. "You know, if I _have_ to burn to death as I plummet back through the atmosphere from space… I'm really, really glad I get to do it like this. Surrounded by the people I love the most."

"Well put, Sly." Bentley focused on his laptop. "Let's hope that sentiment lasts."

With a shrill beep, the timer ended. The hangar door opened.

It was bad. The world was so much bigger.

What had started as a slow, lazy drift was growing and growing in speed. The closer they got, the faster they would become, until this huge makeshift bomb reached terminal velocity. Zootopia was the victim. But when those doors opened, and a huge globe stared up at them, accusatory, there was a sudden sense of hostility.

Time to go.

Both jets came to life - one nudged by remote commands, the other in the capable hands of two legendary pilots. Predicting Bentley's timing, Murray released the Van's handbrake. The natural - unnatural - tilt of the station began trundling them towards that gaping door.

Judy didn't wait to be prompted this time. She reached out and took Nick's hand. He squeezed.

The Clockwerk Jet unfurled its wings, but stayed in place, waiting. Bentley gave the plane a few tentative commands, getting it to hover above the Van. He didn't have long to master it.

And then everything lurched, and then everything began to get hotter. They had hit the atmosphere.

The station took the brunt of the heat as they sheltered in the hangar, waiting for their moment. The plummeting station matched the earth's rotation, so the globe barely moved as they fell. Only grew. Now Nick could see his hometown - or the little patch of coast his hometown should be. A dark metal splodge, directly below. Growing.

The Van lurched. Bentley was taking them forward.

Judy's grip on Nick's paw was tight, but then she felt another. Sly. He reached for her other hand, and she accepted him, and Carmelita was across from her holding onto Sly and to Nick. A chain. A circle.

A welcome sliver of comfort when the whole Van began to shake.

The plane blasted away from the station. It was far too high, too hot, to be safe. But they needed distance. The engines accelerated gravity's deadly design, and in seconds, they had left Bolse behind. Huge and flaming. Death from space, eager to wipe out the dinosaurs anew.

The station took most of the flames. But the plane, the Van, were going much, _much_ too fast. And they all felt the air get hot. Boiling.

The ground grew. Zootopia zoomed. Time stretched, every instant agony, but it would be over all too soon. It came down to this. They would live, or die. The city would live, or die. No middle ground. No second chances.

The accelerator activated.

With its systems overloaded, it wasn't quite instant. And the stream of energy, once invisible, came alive with bright blue light. Hard to spot against the clear winter sky. But Fox saw it.

Fox watched it all. The way the Clockwerk Jet hung there, for a quarter of an instant. And then, with a beam of blue, it vanished. He saw the scar left in the sky, just for a moment. And then, that was it. Gone.

The blue built. The accelerator rattled. And the station imploded.

It wasn't violent. There was a minimum of debris. It just… twisted, in a way something so large and solid never should twist. It looked quite a bit smaller. And it was spiralling away.

What remained of Bolse was destined for the ocean. Zootopia was safe. Now it was just a matter of the seven idiots plummeting to earth in a van.

Bentley was hyperventilating. Just a little. He didn't let it distract him, his eyes intently on the screen, his fingers a blur, as fire gripped the plane like a burning fist and all kinds of warnings screamed at him-

Piece by piece, the rigging between the vehicles was snapping.

The plane reversed course, now fighting gravity's pull with all it had. Too late. What they had tentatively attempted, starting still on the ground, was now impossible. Inertia had its fingers in their bones. A jet couldn't lift a van. Not a van falling this fast.

With a final scream, the plane gave up. And exploded.

Now they were in freefall. Murray felt the explosion, heard Bentley gasp. He gripped the steering wheel. He hadn't given up. Not yet.

They hit the top of the dome like a bullet.

Fragments of unsuspecting drones went flying. So did they. The Van was now trapped in a death spiral, flipping and rolling high above Zootopia. No-one screamed. They were all too terrified to scream.

Murray waited, and waited. And pulled a makeshift lever.

The parachute from the now-deceased plane burst from the Van's roof, unfurling like a flower. Just as delicate. Almost as useless. The howling air tore at it. But now Murray had some tiny degree of control. And he was using it.

They had stopped spinning. The parachute didn't last, sheer force ripping it loose to flutter daintily at its own pace. But now the Van was pointing straight down. Zootopia's central plaza screamed towards the windshield.

ZPD headquarters. The museum. The central station. And closest to them, the tall white tower that was City Hall. Tall, with gently sloping curves.

The Van's wheels hit skyscraper. Bounced. Settled. Tyres rolling.

The blackened damage of the highest floor had flashed past in an instant. Just white. Murray pulled the handbrake and wrenched the steering wheel. A familiar move in a ludicrous context. The Van spun and wobbled but evened out, and it was backwards. Still rolling.

Handbrake on. Footbrake slammed. And every ounce of his concentration on his quote-unquote 'driving'. In the back, they still clung to each other. He would not let them down.

The Van left dirty tyre tracks along the brilliant white of the building, and hit the end of the slope, and flew. Slower. Still a bullet.

They lurched through the air and landed on a nearby street. Hit the tarmac with a screech of brakes, fighting this fatal momentum. They shook, and slid, and slid. And slid. Slid.

The Van slid, slowly, into a vacant parking space. Almost perfectly aligned.

A few moments passed. The streets were quiet.

Three foxes, a rabbit, a raccoon, a hippo, a turtle, and a disassembled wheelchair spilled out.

Several seconds passed in shocked silence. Mostly they just stood or crawled or sat on the tarmac, feeling the solid ground beneath them. Murray had pulled both Bentley and Fox from the Van, and after a moment he laid them down. Bentley sat up straight. Fox did not.

Finally, Nick spoke.

"Okay. Everybody remember where we parked."

And that was it. They were home.

Another cheer went up - a little shakier, a little less steady, than when they had made it to Bolse. Not everyone joined in. But the moment was undeniable. Getting to space had been a miracle. Coming back was something even bigger.

"Murray!" Sly's voice rang out. "That - that was the most amazing thing you've ever done! That _anyone's_ ever-!"

"Don't thank me! Thank my baby! What did I tell ya? **What** did I _**tell**_ ya?! The Van spits in the face of death! It's history's most perfect machine!" He gestured, full-bodied, to his child. Impressively pristine. "It never lets you down, and it's _**never**_ going to d-!"

The heat of re-entry hadn't taken its toll on the fuel tank. Until now. And at this exact moment, the Van exploded.

It was a brutal death. But a swift one. A proud vehicle, full of happy memories and valuable items, transformed instantly into a huge fireball which contained neither. There was no sound except for the roar of fire - no sound, except for a tiny, muted squeak of grief.

Murray stared. It was all he could do.

Sly and Bentley both struggled to find words. They were also shocked, of course. It was theirs, too. Their home, their refuge. But it was Murray's baby. And their first thought was to comfort him.

But there was nothing to say. And they didn't move first.

Carmelita stepped forward. She caught Murray's eye, and showed him her pistol. Pulled the trigger to no effect. He understood.

Then she laid it down in front of the burning Van. She stepped back, alongside the others. Quiet.

Sly realized something. He produced his Binocucom and flicked a few buttons. No reaction. More casualties.

He gently took his own, and Murray's, and Bentley's. Laid them all down together. No-one spoke. Bentley didn't point out the obvious practicalities - that he had built and rebuilt them a dozen times. That it would be easy to replace them. They just embraced the moment. This impromptu viking funeral.

Murray removed his mask. His face was damp with sweat. His eyes were damp, too. Bentley followed suit, and so did Sly, hat against his chest. His cane, more appreciated than ever, tight in his grip. Carmelita dipped her head.

Three Binocucoms, in blue and pink and green, and a blocky red pistol. What remained of a van. Still sturdy.

Objects. Important ones. They could be replaced, yes. Rebuilt. But never forgotten.

Nick nudged his partner. Murmured, subtly. "The pen?"

"Hmm?"

"If the carrot pen broke too, maybe you should add it."

"Actually… I don't have it. I left it at home yesterday. I've been using that thing less and less."

"Huh."

He nodded. They took in the scene.

"Maybe for the best," he murmured. "This is their moment, not ours."

They left them to it. The partners stayed close. Fox lay still. And the four of them - unarmed, hats off - stood there. Bittersweet. Tired.

"It's going to be okay," said Murray finally. They knew he didn't mean the Van. Not specifically.

"You're right."

Sly smiled up at him. He felt Carmelita's hand on his shoulder, and he turned to her, too.

"It's all gonna be okay."

Judy's ear perked. She turned, breaking into a wide, wide smile. "Guys! We've got a welcoming party!"

A cruiser had followed their trajectory, pulling to a stop with the jagged energy of a skilled but worried driver. Fangmeyer emerged, which didn't surprise Judy, nor did the appearance of Wolford from the back.

But everyone was a little thrown when Benjamin Clawhauser, his uniform damaged and his whiskers unkempt and his eyes wild, exploded out of the car and bore down on them.

"Benji!" said Nick. "Sprinkles, my guy, we-"

He was cut off when he and Judy were pulled into the angriest hug of their lives.

"Where," said Clawhauser, his voice cracking, " _ **WERE YOU?!**_ "

He dropped them, semi-violently, as they helplessly stared.

"I've been - _we've_ been-!!" He threw arms up, indicating the far-off dome of robots. The impact of their entry still visible. "There was all th-!" He waved his paws over his uniform. "And everyone-!" A frantic finger back at the museum. "We had to…!"

Judy blinked. "You okay?"

"No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

He took a long, long breath through his nose.

"We had to fight," he said, "Tai Lung."

A ripple of shock went through them. "He's here?!" said Judy.

"He's _there!_ " yelled Clawhauser, flailing an arm at the museum, "with like a billion robots sitting on him, because we had to figure something out because **none of you were here!!** "

He panted a little, and straightened himself out, and prepared to apologise for yelling-

"Are you for real? That's amazing!"

Clawhauser blinked. Murray watched him, his brown eyes bright. Still slightly wet. All the police footage of the Gang showed him with his mask on; Clawhauser was a little struck, seeing him without it.

"Tai Lung is, like, crazy strong. And I should know, I fought him! How'd you do it?"

"Oh," said Ben, suddenly self-conscious, "I mean, like… it wasn't just me…"

"Of course not - teamwork's the only way to win. But still, that's super impressive! Tell me all about it!"

Ben rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Well, gosh, it's- Yeah. You're right! It was all about teamwork, really, and my job has always been to kinda, um…"

As they spoke, Judy quietly nudged Nick. "Check that out."

"Check what out?"

"They make a cute couple, huh?"

"They certainly are standing next to each other," he said flatly.

Fangmeyer and Wolford drifted up too. Part of Sly's brain would always see blue uniforms as red flags, but these two didn't register as threats. Too tired, too sweaty. Too lost.

"Uh," said Fangmeyer, "hi, Inspector. Glad you're… okay?"

She offered them a smile. "Thank you. I'm glad you're safe too. I'm sure it's been difficult for yo-"

"Yes," said Wolford.

Fangmeyer aimed a huge finger at Sly. "So, do we arrest him now?"

"Not today, no." Carmelita turned to Sly. "Do you want to tell them, or will I?"

"I'll do it. I've been looking forward to this for a long time…"

Sly fixed them with a broad grin, lively in the light of the burning Van.

"Myself and my associates, due to exceptional circumstances pertaining to the public's safety, are filing… for a _Code White_."

This declaration did not have the dramatic response he had been hoping for. Wolford and Fangmeyer just watched him. Tired.

"Hey, uh, Bentley?" Murray nudged his brother.

"What?"

"I don't know what a Code White is," he said, "and at this point I'm too afraid to ask."

"Ah."

Bentley felt more than Murray's eyes on him. Apparently he had been singled out as a more reliable source of information than Sly.

"It's quite simple," he said. "In times of sufficient _stress_ , the military can request an external agent, or agents, to help complete a specific task. In return, any outstanding arrest warrants for those agents are nullified."

"I think the original idea was pointing mass murderers in the quote unquote 'right direction'," said Sly cheerily. "But we saw the true potential of this barely-used legality. And we have an air force general willing to reward us for everything we did today." He turned to the fox lying on the tarmac. "Isn't that right, Fox?"

Fox lay there. Staring intently at the sky. Silent.

"…Uh, pal?"

Without averting his gaze, Fox raised a half-formed thumbs up.

"There. See?" Sly returned to Fangmeyer. "Just gotta clear the paperwork, and we'll be model citizens."

"Rrrrrrrrrright…"

More a growl than anything. Fangmeyer found a fresh seam of strength, those broad shoulders looming over Sly.

"And you think that _paperwork's_ gonna protect you," came that growl, "after what you did to Nick and Judy…?"

Sly's grin froze, his ears back. "Um…"

"Hey, uh, Fox?"

Before the scene could devolve any further - Wolford and Carmelita already tense and ready - Judy spoke up.

"I don't know how this all works, exactly, but… do you think me and Nick could get a little piece of that White thing, too? Just to like, y'know, smooth over a _very_ small conspiracytoallowyourselftobekidnapped or whatever…?"

A tiny, distant grunt.

"Great!"

In an instant she was in front of Sly, smiling up at Fangmeyer.

"Then now might be a good time to tell you what _actually_ happened back in the fall…"

And so it went. A chorus of voices, melodious over the steady backing rhythm of a city returning to life. Murray and Clawhauser still chatting. Judy running through a brisk but accurate summary of certain events. Carmelita and Bentley, ever practical, exchanging murmured suggestions on how the next few minutes would have to go.

But not everyone was talking. Fox still lay on the ground, limbs splayed. Eyes upward. Nick sat beside him, and squeezed his shoulder. He didn't expect a reply. Nor did he say anything. He just made his presence known. And with a quiet nod, Fox acknowledged him.

Sly was quiet too. He knew when a moment called for it. And while he was looking forward to recording this in writing when he got a moment to himself - whenever that would be - the most important part of that process was experiencing it first-hand. So he took it in. Carmelita, and Bentley, and Murray. Nick and Judy. Fox, and a handful of confused cops. The Van, gently going out.

Not exactly how he had pictured it. But he had never held out too much hope for anything like this. And now that he had his chance, he was going to remember it. He was going to remember everything he had found in this city.

Morning in Zootopia.


	29. Epilogue: Many Happy Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 3rd.

"Carrots, do you know what today is?"

Judy gave her partner a dubious look. "Is that some kind of trick question? We're already here."

Nick blinked. "No, not… That's not what I meant, dummy."

"Then talk clearer! Dummy!"

The elevator arrived and they awkwardly moved aside for the rhino who stepped off. Nick waited until they were inside, out of the stranger's earshot, before coughing under his breath. "… _Dummy_."

Judy stuck her tongue out and hopped up to press the right button - the elevator wasn't built for rabbits or foxes. Animals of all kinds lived together in Zootopia, but sometimes the poetic metaphor collided with blunt logistics. It only made sense for larger animals to get larger apartment buildings.

"I meant," said Nick, his box steady in both hands, "do you know what date it is?"

"December 3rd. It's been marked in my calendar for two weeks. Again, is this a-?"

He sighed. "Carrots - what happened last time it was December 3rd?"

She paused for a moment to recall. Early December last year had been-

Oh.

" _Oh_ ," she said.

"Yep," he replied.

"That's amazing." Judy blinked. "It's so weird we would just forget about it that quickly."

"Speak for yourself. I'm cool and smart, I remembered."

"Easy, Slick. You're maybe one of those things, not both."

Her smirk became a little less certain.

"That's a fun conversation piece, seeing who does and doesn't remember the date, but… maybe don't lean on it too hard? This is…"

"Of course." His smile was warm. "No work talk. Not at a party like this."

"Exactly."

"Although," he said, as the elevator dinged, "there will be a lot of familiar faces…"

They stepped out into the corridor, and had no trouble spotting the right door. After all, no other apartment had decorated its entrance with glitter and streamers and yellow and pink balloons. Nick couldn't hold back a laugh.

"Like a kid's birthday party…! I'm so here for this."

Judy didn't catch any irony in her partner's tone. No mocking sarcasm. She smiled. It was going to be a good night.

They knocked on the huge door. It promptly swung back to reveal Benjamin Clawhauser, beaming even brighter than usual.

"Guys! Hi!"

"Hiya, Sprinkles." Nick watched as Judy was happily enveloped in a warm hug, then calmly accepted one of his own. "Hope we aren't late. Last-minute holdup."

"You're totally fine! C'mon in!"

They followed him inside. The apartment was still shiny - this whole building was new. Mayor Dreemurr was doing a decent job increasing the available accommodation in the city. Judy was glad to see this was a lot nicer than her first Zootopian address.

Then again, Clawhauser's boyfriend was a lot wealthier than he seemed.

"Great! You guys made it!" Murray came over, wearing an equally huge smile.

Judy matched it. "Of course! We were just talking about how we've been looking forward to this for weeks."

"Among other things." Nick brandished his box. "Here's our housewarming gift. I made 'em. Carrots helped."

Clawhauser took the box, opening it to reveal a collection of cupcakes in yellow and pink icing.

"My mom used to make these," said Nick, a tad too quickly as though he was apologising, "and I've been kinda getting back into baking lately, so…"

He trailed off. Murray and Clawhauser were already sampling his work.

Their eyes shone.

"These are great!" Clawhauser wiggled in place. "You've got real talent!"

"Oh, I dunno about that…"

"You give us delicious cupcakes," said Murray, "you _accept_ the possibility that we shower your efforts with **well-earned praise!** Those are the rules!"

"This is their apartment, after all…" smirked Judy.

"Yeah! She gets it!"

Murray took the box from Clawhauser and sat it on a nearby table, laden with sugary decadence.

"There! Pride of place. I'm gonna recommend these to everybody else, don't think I won't!"

"Thanks," said Nick, and meant it. "I really, uh…"

His inspection of the goods on offer didn't get far. The largest thing on the table caught his attention.

"Guys."

"Mmhmm?" said Clawhauser.

"That's a birthday cake." He pointed, accusingly, at the brightly-coloured, multi-tiered confection. The delicate chocolate icing which declared ' _Many Happy Returns!_ ' "Why do you have a birthday cake…?!"

"Well, it's kinda like the _apartment's_ birthday…"

"And it was great value for money," added Murray.

"But really, to be honest…!"

"We wanted it! And it's our party!"

Nick took a second to process this. "Can I… have some?"

"Don't be silly!" said Clawhauser. "Not until we blow out candles."

Judy had rarely seen her partner laugh so hard.

Snacks in hand, they were soon disentangled from their gracious hosts and taking in the party itself. There had been a great turnout.

Fangmeyer, as ever, drew the eye, a laughing mountain of orange amidst the smaller guests. Wolford, as ever, wasn't far, comfortably sharing a large armchair with his partner. They were listening with interest to one of Gary's meandering anecdotes, who was similarly snuggled against his own wolf. Larry offered the occasional murmured correction or dry quip, but was mostly content to let Gary speak. Judy was still (pleasantly) surprised at how neatly those two had joined her broader social circle. Taking down a despot had proven to be quite a bonding exercise.

That was evident, looking around this room. Where else could you see the chief of police and one of the world's most infamous hackers calmly discussing municipal politics? Bogo seemed a little awkward, but he always struck Nick as awkward when forced outside his office. It was a testament to his respect to Clawhauser he was here, in plain clothes, ready to eat cake.

Nick and Judy made the rounds, which took them a little while. There were a lot of people to greet, since they had arrived later than they had meant to. But they weren't the last to arrive. Almost lost amid the sounds of the party, there was a quiet knock on the door.

Murray caught it, a small ear flicking. "Oh, I'll get that! I sure hope he made it…"

He opened the massive front door. It revealed a short fox.

"Little buddy! It's great to see you!"

"Um!" Fox smiled up at him, a touch nervously. "Hello!"

His reflexes, so honed, so legendarily quick, did not save him. In an instant, Murray had him in a crushing hug. Three instants after that, Fox found himself scooped up, Murray's steady hands under his armpits. He was displayed to the party like a prize-winning cabbage.

"Hey guys!" called Murray, his boisterous tones easily rolling over the sea of conversation. "It's Fox! The guy who got us up to space last year!"

There was a rousing cheer. Fox blinked. And dangled.

Murray remembered himself, setting him down gently. "Oh, sorry. I shouldn't've jumped straight to that kinda thing. Your legs-"

"-are fine! Don't worry, they healed ages ago." Fox tugged at his scarf. It wasn't the exact same outfit, but it was broadly similar. Bright colours and space-age angles. "Um…"

"Yeah?"

"It's very nice to see you all!" he said quickly. "But I don't know how long I'll - I mean, it's just that I'm not very-"

"Used to parties?"

Nick had calmly, quietly angled towards Fox from the moment he spotted him, reading him easily. A benevolent predator.

"Don't sweat it," he smiled. "Me and Carrots just carved out a good spot on a couch. You can join us there while you get used to the noise level. Sound good?"

"Sounds great! Thank you!" Fox turned to Murray. "I hope that's okay…!"

"Of course! We're just happy you're here. Make sure you swing by the snack table on your way, though, you gotta try Nick's baking…!"

With Nick's help, Fox was safely guided through the larger mammals - detouring, naturally, past the beckoning mountain of sugar - until they came to one of the apartment's large couches. It was in a quieter nook, and unclaimed except for a smiling rabbit.

"Hi, Fox! Long time no see!"

"Yes!" Fox joined Nick in scaling the couch. He sat more in the middle as Nick shared a corner with Judy. "It's good to see you both."

"You in town long?" asked Nick.

"I arrived, um…" Fox checked his phone. "Ninety minutes ago? I got a bit lost on the tram system. And there's a lot of checks you have to do when you land in a major civilian airport, of course…"

"Flew yourself in?" He grinned. "Glad to hear you're keeping those skills sharp. And some commitment, too, flying in from wherever!"

"We're very glad you did," said Judy.

"Yeah," smiled Fox. "I am too."

"Hopefully you won't be too overwhelmed with attention," said Nick. "I mean, that introduction you got is bound to raise some questions… but I think people know who you are. Ridiculous as it sounds, getting us into space wasn't the coolest thing you did." He gestured to the apartment. Mammals laughing and chatting. "None of this would've happened without your help."

"I'm so glad the Code White worked! I did everything I could to speed it along. General Pepper had to tell me to stop. Several times!"

Nick laughed. "Yeah, that tracks…"

"It all went fairly smoothly," said Judy. "Obviously, people like Bogo were dubious of the Gang. But Sly's a good guy, and always has been. They aren't exactly _friends_ , but by now Bogo accepts that Sly's not a 'menace to the city' or whatever. Quite the opposite!"

"And did the paperwork and stuff go okay? I tried to keep track of it, but officially, it was out of my hands…"

"Don't worry, it went fine," said Nick. "Uh, relatively fine, at least. Took a while to go through, of course. And - get this - y'know how a bunch of citizens helped take down Tai Lung?"

"Um," said Fox, "yes?"

"A few got the Mayor's pardon on minor crimes. But people were kinda wondering what Lionheart - the former mayor arrested by two _very_ attractive young heroes - was gonna get out of it. Like, Tori can't reverse that kind of sentence even if she tried." Nick shook his head, amused. "But he didn't ask her. He _waited_ , and the second the Code White stuff started up? Letter arrives from his lawyer saying that technically he helped fight Andross, because he fought Andross' local lieutenant, and since the name of the game is pardoning people who helped stop Andross…"

Fox blinked. "Did that work…?"

"Oh, of course not. It was a ludicrous thing to claim. But to keep him from slowing things down - to shut him up, basically - a few years got shaved off his remaining sentence." Nick bit into a cupcake he had taken. "So, did he get what he wanted? Yes. He did."

"That was the only hiccup," said Judy. "Mostly, it all functioned as intended. Sly, Bentley and Murray were recognized as vital in stopping Andross, and their outstanding warrants were nullified. I think I remember something about… They were warned the ruling might not hold up everywhere? They got into a _lot_ of trouble over the years. But right here, right now? The ZPD won't be kicking down their door. They can do stuff like…" She smiled. "Settle down. Buy an apartment."

"Good, good…" Fox seemed relieved. "And what about you guys? Were you involved?"

Judy chuckled, somewhat shakily. "Funny you should ask… See, um, whatever about arrest warrants and the like - this city _hated_ Sly. Everyone thought he had kidnapped us, and we hadn't been able to clear his name. But I thought, hey, we can do it now! This was a chance to admit our own part in that whole mess. And we did - gladly! - since we, uh, kinda assumed that the Code White would apply to us too…"

" _You_ assumed that," corrected Nick.

"And both of us," she said, "hoped we could clear up the Phantasm thing once and for all." She laughed. "I mean, Sly and Bentley and Murray stole, like, millions of dollars of property over the years! What's that compared to one little white lie?"

Her laughter trailed off, becoming sheepish.

"Ha ha… turns out Internal Affairs _really_ doesn't like it when you lie to them…!"

"Which is fair enough," said Nick placidly. "These are the guys who cleared Bellwether's rot out of the ZPD. They take these things very seriously. They have to."

"Yeah," said Judy. "But they were willing to talk it out. We came to an informal agreement. Or as informal as IA ever gets, anyway. We only had to sign one document."

"Two, technically."

"Right, yeah. Only two. Each."

"And what was the agreement?" said Fox.

"No promotions. At least for a while." Judy's voice was steady. "I was actually thinking about applying for a higher rank just before it all went down. But Director Colt said it would be inappropriate to, um, keep accruing more institutional power if we couldn't stop breaking so many laws?"

"I'd just like to point out," said Nick, "that this is basically the opposite of a punishment for me. I keep my job, _and_ I don't need to bust my tail trying to move up the ladder? Win-win, honestly." He laid a hand on Judy's shoulder. "But poor Carrots here… career gal, through and through. I was worried how she'd take it."

"Believe me, so was I." She smiled up at him, then back to Fox. "But things have actually been going very well! Honestly, our achievements kinda speak for themselves at this point, even if we never rank up past 'Officer'. So we've gotten involved in other stuff. Right now, we're official liaisons and consultants to the mayor's office - the Dreemurr administration has some ambitious plans for how community support networks can be strengthened. Reforming what wasn't working, moving funding to the right places…" Her smile was radiant. "I really feel like we're making a difference!"

"Turns out," said Nick, "the best way to fight crime is to prevent it in the first place, and the best way of doing _that_ is to make sure people's lives aren't completely unlivable. Shocking, right? Who knew?"

"Nick knew," said Judy.

"Sure did. Yes."

Fox matched their smiles. "I'm so happy to hear that! I hope it keeps going well."

"Much obliged, Fox. But while I'm sure Carrots is eager to give you the exact statistics-"

"Sure am! Yes!"

"-let's table that for now. What about you? What've you been doing since we last saw you?"

"Well, let's see…" Fox bit into a cookie, giving himself time to think. "I had to go to hospital first, obviously-"

"Obviously."

"-and they said I had worsened the damage to my legs by using Bentley's device. But not as much as I _could_ have, so, that was nice!"

Nick and Judy shared a glance.

"Even leaving that aside," said Fox, completely missing it, "it took a long time for everything to go back to normal. We had to make sure no-one could disable communications the way Andross had, and there were a lot of fires to put out…"

"Metaphorical or otherwise," murmured Nick.

"…but once things were straightened out, and the reports were all filed, everyone was very impressed! General Pepper wanted to give me a medal, and a promotion."

"Oh!" said Judy. "You were a Lieutenant, right? What are you now?"

He smiled one of his trademark smiles. "Nothing!"

"…Huh?"

"I guess you aren't the only ones turning down a new rank…"

Fox rubbed his chin for a moment. His breezy demeanour faded, just a little, as he chose his words more carefully.

"Everything was great," he said. "People were happy, and the day was saved, and Lena and Poe were so proud of me…"

"Wait, the other two pilots?!" said Nick. "You mean they _actually_ surviv-?!" Judy tactfully elbowed him.

Fox didn't notice. "But… I dunno. It just didn't sit with me. No matter how happy everyone else was, and how much I made myself smile… it wasn't a happy ending for me." His voice got a little quieter. "Or for Wolf."

For a moment, the partners went quiet. A sudden oasis of silence in a bustling, upbeat party, as they remembered the complicated mammal who, in the end, had sacrificed his li-

"So," said Fox, "I went to go find him!"

They shared another half-second glance. "Uh," said Judy-

"What?" said Nick.

"You remember when we fell back into the city, right?"

"Yes, Fox," said Nick, "I remember plummeting out of the sky in a burning automobile and being certain I was about to horrifically die."

"Well," he said, cheerily, "while I sat there, unable to process the idea of losing Wolf when I had finally gotten him back-"

Judy made a heartbroken little squeak.

"-I kept watching the Clockwerk Jet. I saw the trail it left when the accelerator activated. And, as soon as I could, I began to investigate where it might have ended up."

Another uneasy glance. They remembered how both Bentley and Penelope assumed the Jet wouldn't survive that plan. Neither of them wanted to be the one to point it out.

Instead, they let Fox continue. "It was difficult, especially doing it from a hospital bed. But I remembered exactly which direction it went, and obviously, my starting point was right over Zootopia. I spent time calculating different places it could've landed, and got a list of, like, thirty…"

"And did the air force help you look?" asked Judy. "Whatever about Wolf, I'm sure they wanted to make sure that Jet was really destroyed."

Another careful pause. "They said," confided Fox, "that I was being stupid."

"Oh."

"They were very polite about it at first! I had just saved the world, after all. They kept trying to change the subject to medals and promotions." His voice hardened. Unusually serious. "But I didn't want any of that stuff. I wanted Wolf. And when they wouldn't let me look for him, I realized… well, I didn't need their permission. After all I did for everyone else, it was time to make my own choices."

"Yeah!" said Nick, grinning. "You earned it, buddy. So when you said you flew in…"

"It wasn't in a jet - I have my own plane now! It's nice being able to go wherever I like. Maybe it's corny, but I like to think my job title is 'adventurer'."

Judy smiled. "Sounds good to me."

"And me! So what you're saying is-"

Sly, in typical fashion, had appeared from nowhere. He leaned over the back of the couch, mildly startling all three.

"-you're an extremely talented pilot at a bit of a loose end."

"O-oh! Hi, Sly!" Fox blinked, but soon recovered. "Yeah, that's right."

"Wonderful."

With a purr, and a theatrical flick of his wrist, Sly produced a small and stately business card.

"Here. Give us a call some time."

Fox took the card, examining it with interest. It was dark blue, with stylish yellow text. _**C**_ _ooper_ _ **C**_ _onsulting_. Both Cs were reminiscent of Sly's cane, golden and gleaming.

"We've had a very productive year in our new Zootopia office," continued Sly. "This is a marvel of a city, and there's plenty to do. But having a pilot on retainer? That'd be real useful for expanding our reach."

"Sure! You can count on me," smiled Fox. "Your… reach to do what, exactly?"

"Oh, y'know. We make ourselves useful."

Smoothly, Sly slipped onto the couch, landing in a lounging position on Fox's other side.

"Me and the boys made full use of that Code White you so kindly arranged. It was the perfect springboard for an idea we'd been batting around for years." His voice was proud. Warm. "We're all softies at heart. It was always so pleasant when our… business interests… ended up improving things for the little guy. So we shifted our focus. And now that's what we do full-time."

"Oh!" said Fox. "That sounds lovely."

"It is. We put our skills to good use, helping people out of bad situations any way we can. And I do mean _any_ way. We have a certain flexibility that lets us handle problems the ZPD can't. Or won't." He paused, now faintly smug. "Or cause."

"Ha ha," said Judy sheepishly, "the system is a… work in progress…"

"All the more reason," said Nick, smiling and unruffled, "that we're glad you're there to fill the gaps. You've been doing great work. Just like we always knew you could."

Sly shrugged, modest. But his smile widened.

"Wait, I'm a little confused." Fox blinked. "Is your new business… legal?"

"Oh, we stay out of trouble," said Sly, which was a calculated, technically correct answer. "We've got our local contacts in the ZPD, of course," he said, gesturing to Nick and Judy, "and better yet, our chief tactical officer is an expert in international law enforcement…"

"There you are!"

Carmelita appeared, giving Sly a faintly admonishing smile.

"Even when we're all in the same room, it's so easy to lose sight of you."

" _Au contraire_ ," he purred. "You have an irreplaceable talent for finding me." She chuckled.

Carmelita turned her attention to the others. "Good to see you all! It's been too long, Fox."

"Great to see you again, Inspector!" Fox paused. "If you… are an Inspector, still? It seems like none of us are where we thought we'd be last year."

"Yeah…" Carmelita half-sat on the armrest, next to Sly. "It's a huge change, in those terms. But things moved slowly. At first," she said, laying a hand on Sly's shoulder, "I was mostly concerned with keeping a close eye on this miscreant…"

"Excuses, excuses," he sang.

"But he and his brothers were playing nice. After all these years, I know a Cooper Gang ploy when I see one, and this wasn't it. I went from scrutinising them to arguing their case to people like Bogo."

"Silver bullet or not," said Sly, a little more quietly, "no loophole could undo what the news reported about us last autumn. I still get funny looks sometimes. But less and less as time goes by." He laid his hand on top of Carmelita's. "And a big part of that was having a big, bad Interpol Inspector who had our backs. She would look other, dumber cops right in the eye and make the truth clear."

"I saw it happen to Johnson, just before he quit," chimed in Judy. "Gave him extra incentive _to_ quit, I'll bet…"

Carmelita's eyes wandered, taking in the city view through the apartment's wide, bright windows. "Because I was watching them," she said, "I saw everything they did to set up their new 'office'. Their commitment to helping people. The way they were using their skills for more than just violently shutting down other criminals."

"Though we still do that," noted Sly, "frequently and on a pro-bono basis. And with our usual level of success, too. Although, because we had to change certain aspects of our approach, early on there were one or two-"

"Dozen," she corrected. "One or two _dozen_ incidents where I found myself rescuing the city's newest little business from trouble they'd strode right into."

"C'mon, two dozen? It definitely did not happen twenty-four times."

"I said one or two, didn't I? And it was definitely more than twelve."

"Depends on how you count it," coughed Sly.

"Fifteen," said Nick, calmly and with only a vague hint of smugness. "The exact count was fifteen across the first three months."

"Thanks, pal…"

"You're welcome!"

"However often it was," said Carmelita, adding in a murmur, "and yes, it was fifteen… it was becoming a habit. And honestly, I was almost looking forward to it. The ZPD is getting better with Nick and Judy pulling it tirelessly in the right direction, but scolding pickpockets can never compare to working with Sly. Keeping an eye on him wasn't annoying. If anything, dragging him out of a burning building was easily the highlight of my week."

"That _was_ very romantic," he sighed.

"And organised crime in Zootopia has been going through major shifts ever since Mister Big became a grandparent, and frankly Interpol was still a frustrating place to work even after all the years I gave them…" She shrugged. "In the end, I suppose a lot of reasons just added up."

"And so," purred Sly, "the unbending Inspector Fox finally listened to her heart, followed her destiny, and became a criminal…"

She gave him a withering look. "Sly. The entire point was that you and the others _wouldn't_ be criminals any more."

"No, it was actually to trick you into becoming a criminal. And it worked."

She glared for a few seconds more. And then she leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Shut up."

"Censoring the truth. You're still a cop deep down." He leaned against her, and she automatically put an arm around him. "But don't worry, it'll wear off eventually."

"Unlikely." Carmelita smiled at him for a moment, then returned her attention to Fox. "So, uh, yes. That's how I've been doing. How are you?"

Nick and Judy prepared themselves for the social inevitability of hearing the same story twice. But in typical fashion, Fox was more direct. "I quit the air force so I could travel the world searching for Wolf!"

Carmelita blinked. Directness was something they had in common. "Isn't Wolf," she asked, ignoring the desperate signals from Nick and Judy to not raise this question, "dead?"

"No!" smiled Fox.

"I guess we didn't exactly find a body," said Sly. "Though I wasn't expecting much of a body to find…"

"Forgive me for being blunt, Fox," said Carmelita, "but is this just a hopeful guess? Or do you have proof?"

"Yes!" smiled Fox.

He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small piece of metal.

The others shared a bubble of meaningful silence. They all recognised the alloy. For Sly, there was no mistaking it.

"That's it, alright," he murmured. "Where'd you find it?"

"A remote mountain range, a long way from Zootopia. I think the impact might have basically carved a new valley…"

Fox held the fragment so cheerfully. For him, it wasn't a symbol of hatred. It was a lucky talisman. Hopeful.

"But I'm certain of it. The Jet was intact when it landed. And Wolf walked away from the crash."

"I see," said Carmelita. "Does that mean Penelope is out there, too?"

"Um," said Fox, "probably?"

"Hooray," drawled Nick.

Judy was more thoughtful. "We haven't heard from either of them all year… If they're alive, they've been laying low."

"Which makes sense," added Carmelita. "Even if Interpol assumed they died, they can't exactly show their faces everywhere. Not everyone got a Code White."

"Not everyone deserves one," said Nick plainly.

Sly caught Fox's eye. "So, if you're certain they survived the crash, what next? Any leads?"

Fox smiled.

"…You're out of ideas, aren't you?"

"Please help," smiled Fox.

Sly just chuckled. Then he leaned up in his seat, raising his voice. "Hey, Bentley!"

It took a moment for Bentley to politely disengage from Bogo, but he was soon wheeling over. "Hi, all. What's up, Sly?"

He nodded to Fox. "We've got a worthy challenge for that brain of yours." Fox brandished the fragment of the Jet, letting Bentley take a look.

He regarded it for a moment. "You found this? Alongside sufficient proof Penelope and O'Donnell survived our desperate plan last year?"

"Wow," said Judy. "Quick on the uptake, huh…?"

"Like always," smiled Sly. He patted Fox's shoulder. "Just fill Bentley in on what you've got, and I'm sure you'll pick up the trail."

"Thank you." Fox's smile was smaller, softer. Wholly genuine. "You guys have always been so nice to me."

"Just paying it back, really," said Sly. "Earlier in this conversation you agreed to help my company without knowing what it _does_. You're a good man, Fox. You deserve to have people help you the way you help them."

Fox just nodded.

"Come on," said Bentley. "I'm a little parched, so shall we move this conversation closer to the drinks table?"

"Whatever you say!"

And then they were gone. The others watched Bentley and Fox disappear into the party, already deep in conversation.

Carmelita nudged Sly, and he shuffled closer to Nick and Judy. "Thanks. I was getting tired of that armrest." She sat, and he cuddled against her casually.

Nick looked thoughtful. "Are you sure that couldn't wait? Setting Fox on Bentley, I mean. This is a party."

Sly shrugged. "I know it's generally bad etiquette to talk work at something like this, but Bentley loves a challenge. Trust me, this is relaxing to him."

"All of it? Even the notion Penelope is still out there?"

"All of it," said Sly. "I get what you're saying, but he's not cagey about her any more. It's not like the stuff with her didn't happen, but… it's not the end of the world, either. You know what I mean?"

"Actually," said Nick, "I do."

"Oh!"

Judy sat up, eyes bright.

"I just remembered - that thing you said about talking about work reminded me." She nudged her partner. "Tell them your thing, Nick. The seal is broken."

"Oh, yeah." He turned towards Sly and Carmelita. "Today is December 3rd."

"Sure is," said Sly, dubiously.

" _Last_ time it was December 3rd-!"

"Was the Andross incident," said Carmelita. "9am, December 3rd, lasting for almost exactly a day."

Nick deflated. "Yeah. It was. You've gone and ruined the magic, Madame Inspector. Curse your flawless memory."

Outdated or not, that nickname always earned a smile from Carmelita. "'Flawless'? Hardly. Who would forget something that important after only one year?"

"Ha ha," said Sly, "yeah. We all remember things the same amount. Definitely." Judy caught his eye, offering a look of sympathy.

"One year…" said Carmelita, more thoughtfully. "It's worth pointing out the anniversary. How much has changed in that short time."

"Mostly for the better," said Nick, "without losing what was good in the first place."

"Agreed." Her smile was warm. "You two made stepping away from Interpol easy. I can't say I wake up every day missing Neyla, or even Barkley… but I still get to work with you. And Max, and Sasha, and Ben. That's all I really need."

" _And_ ," sang Sly, laying his head on her shoulder, "now you also get to spend every day with me, and that's even _better_."

"Silence, criminal," mumbled Carmelita, but the way her smile grew gave her away.

"He's right!" said Judy. "Teaming up isn't some exceptional thing now. Something we need a big, horrible excuse for. We see each other every week!"

"True," said Nick, "so we probably shouldn't spend all night hogging this couch. I mean, we're still on for that dinner at Everett's Diner next weekend, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it," said Carmelita.

"So - and I hope you don't think this the wrong way, Madame Inspector - we should take this chance to see other people. As it were."

"I notice you didn't address me there, Slick."

"Oh, I'm always eager to put distance between us, Ringtail."

"Empty words," purred Sly.

Judy was content to let the banter roll all night, but another noise caught her attention. When her ear noticeably perked, they all listened out for it.

Murray and Clawhauser. Boisterously singing Happy Birthday. To the apartment.

"That's our cue," said Nick. "I don't know about you, but fully intend on getting a slice of that cake."

"I can't believe they started without us!" said Sly, joining Nick in sliding off the couch. "Poor birthday etiquette, regardless of whether or not it's for an inanimate space."

"Slow down! That cake's huge, it's not like…"

Judy trailed off, watching Sly and Nick weave their way between larger mammals. She shook her head, amused.

"I swear, those two can be like little kids sometimes… Just another thing they have in common." She smirked. "Which, like all the other stuff, they'll never admit."

She slid to the floor too.

"Are you coming?"

Carmelita joined her, boots lightly hitting the ground. She smiled. "There's nowhere I'd rather be."

"Yeah…"

They went together, the crowd happily parting for them. Cops and criminals and a combat pilot, who was joining the shared, warbled song in a soft tenor.

"Me neither."

* * *

_**Heck.** _

_**I'm at a loss as to what to put here, after over 100,000 words - after about 289,163, actually, because this is the end of an entire trilogy. About five years ago, I watched a movie, and thought I could combine it with my favourite game in a fun way. And now look where we are.** _

_**I knew this endeavour wasn't going to break any records on overall hits, with one fandom being far, far smaller than the other. And that's why I'm so eternally grateful for every reader, especially those of you kind enough to leave comments. You know who you are, and you also know that your engagement is what motivates fanfic authors like me to, well, actually write and post stories.** _

_**My writing has improved magnificently since 2016, because the only way to improve any craft is to practice it. In all that time, I've been writing, and posting, and hearing about what I can do well. How can I thank you for that?** _

_**I suppose I could start by being honest. There's not much point hiding it: I don't intend on a H &H4. Or another fanfic on this scale. I'm not gonna throw down a smokebomb and disappear forever, but at the same time, I've been writing fanfic for over a decade now. And I'm kinda out of big ideas.** _

_**Conversely… I finished my first draft of an original novel in November. As I type this, I have a second manuscript open in another tab. Rest assured, I'm far from finished writing.** _

_**But I won't forget my roots, honing my artform by bashing furries into each other at speed. And I hope that this intentionally overblown threequel - a love letter to all needlessly character-packed third instalments everywhere - was as fun to read as it was to write. I crammed every single named character from the first two back into this one, and doesn't that inherently make it a good story? (No.)** _

_**So from ancillary cops Delgato, McHorn, Francine, Johnson, and Higgins; from far-off parents Bonnie and Stu; from friendly bartenders Ruby and Blake;  
from weird little freak, Afton;  
** _ _**from street thugs Shenzi, Banzai and Ed; from diligent journalists Katherine, Peter, and Fabienne;  
from museum curator Okonkwo, and his chief of security Finnick; from dubious back-alley doctor Honey;  
from model family Toriel, Asgore, and Asriel; from fixed point Bogo;  
from former mayor Lionheart; from two very, very good boys, Gary and Larry;  
from angry little Peridot and larger-than-life Tai Lung;  
** _ _**from masterminds Penelope, Bellwether, and Scar, and from ludicrous hanger-on slash pawn Zira;**_ **  
**_**from ghosts in the machine Clockwerk and Neyla; from high-IQ moron Andross; from star-foxed lovers Fox and Wolf;**_  
 _**from the unbreakable Murray, the unflappable Bentley, the irreplaceable Clawhauser, and the hands-down greatest interspecies couple in ZPD Precinct One, Wolford and Fangmeyer;  
** **from legendary thief Sly Cooper, from inseparable partners Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps, from our heroine Carmelita Montoya Fox, and from myself… always remember these important facts:**_

_**We're all flawed people. Change starts with you. And often, crime is cool and good actually.** _

_**-Snap** _


End file.
